Of Legolas and Lisaine
by Nillaithiel
Summary: 650 years before the Fellowship of the Ring, Legolas reluctantly forms a bond with an exiled princess as he fights to save a distant elven city from annihilation.
1. Three Travelers

For a time, peace reigned again in Middle-Earth, and the light of Anar covered the land. But though the One Ring was centuries lost, the shadow of Sauron bided his time deep in Amon Amarth. Ever in the Dark Lord's mind was the desire to rule supreme so desperate, that Sauron sought to overtake all the kingdoms of Middle-Earth, great and small, with or without the One Ring. Scores of armies were thus sent into the world to enslave what lands and passes they might, and set the way for new armies behind them. All means of creatures were so employed, enslaved by Sauron's very will, and all manners of lies were used to separate and divide the free peoples of Middle-Earth against each other so they might be overtaken with littler efforts. And of these creatures, none was more evil or cunning than Rakal the Deceiver, giver of death and despair, and Sauron was well-pleased with his evil minion and all his deeds. For even as Sauron was to Morgoth, so was Rakal to Sauron. Ever on stealth and secrecy did Sauron rely, and few even had knowledge of Rakal's existence, so complete were his triumphs, that he left no living thing in his wake.  
  
And so for many years a deluded peace prevailed upon the free lands of Middle-Earth, and the people were unaware of the breadth and extent of Sauron's reach. But the immortal elves were not so easily deceived, for being wise and enduring themselves, they had become weary of Sauron's malice on the land, and were not lulled into the oblivious tranquility of peace. Ever watchful for signs of impending threat were they, and Sauron could not fool them. Thus, deep in the forests of Mirkwood, the mighty King Thranduil pondered on these heavy thoughts, for errant reports of an unknown menace filtered slowly to his throne, yet none stepped forward to say,  
  
"Yea oh mighty king! I have seen the threat!"  
  
At last he called to council his most trusted lords, and his son, Legolas was with them, and he said to them,  
  
"Of the vanquished Sauron there are but few tidings. Yet the unceasing thought of his treachery grows within me. And we have seen no emissary or visitor to our fair wood to bring us news of the world to allay my doubts. It is time then to send a group forth from our borders to gather what knowledge they may of the outside lands and see firsthand how fairs our neighbors of the free earth."  
  
The council discussed this plan, and it was deemed wise. At length Legolas arose and said to his father,  
  
"If it pleases you, my lord, I will go with Illdinar and Kerrinais. For it seems that 3 travelers alone may be less detected than an army. If the peace that prevails is truth or false deception, we will discover it, and I will bring back to you a rightful account."  
  
So it was decided that Legolas, Kerrinais, and Illdinar should go from the safe boundaries of Mirkwood to the kingdoms of the north passes to hold councils with King Olandin the Fearsome of Euphratas and also the kings of the smaller princely states of Irwindal and Tuluth.  
  
They set out on their journey upon a damp, misty morning. Down the wide and steep path, each made his way to the ancient stone gateway of the city. Towering above the great archway stood oak trees, tall and noble, as if standing guard to King Thranduil's kingdom. Kerrinais carried with him his bow and quiver of arrows, which was richly adorned with silver scroll and the softest leather. Illdinar, border sentry of Mirkwood also carried bow and arrow, but much preferred his sword, Menea, which he kept lovingly at his side. It was a fine elven blade, which gleamed bright silver in light of day or darkness. The sword, a gift of old, passed down to him through his mother's house, was his most prized possession, and Illdinar kept it in a fine leather sheath that hung at his belt. The hilt was also covered, for even with this, it glowed silver from within, through the finest cracks in the sheath. Finally, Legolas came from his father, his quiver of arrows secured to his back by leather straps with brightly polished silver buckles over his chest and shoulder. A silver elven blade, sheathed and secured in like manner to his back, straddled the side of his quiver. Behind him, ambled Legolas's horse, Neonean, a noble, pale-gray mare.  
  
Her magnificent mane, braided twice behind her right ear, signified her allegiance to the elves of Mirkwood. Her fiery blue eyes followed Legolas's every move as they walked to the gate. On her back, Neonean carried supplies for the journey. Several sacks filled with fruits, herbs and the elven waybread, Lembas, wrapped in mallorn leaves, and were strapped tightly together.  
  
The 3 elves set out through the great forest, following the trail of Asha. At that time of year, the trees surrounding this ancient trail bore much fruit. The trail closely followed the tributaries that spun off the forest river, winding slowly south, until it left Mirkwood altogether and eventually became part of the Anduin. The river provided the party with ample fish and water to drink. They ate from the bounty of the forest, saving their supplies for the road away from Mirkwood, for none knew how they would be received. Seldom did the elves venture away from their own lands and into the foreign kingdoms, as they were called. Neonean followed closely behind Legolas, needing no halter or reins, so aware of his mind was she, that she never strayed a great distance from him, and would come to him at once when he beckoned her. Of great stature she was, and could easily carry all three elves had they a mind to ride. However, all preferred the path on foot, the luxurious green wood mosses beneath their feet.  
  
They followed the trail southwards until it intersected with the old forest road (Men-i-Naugrim), which cut through the center of Mirkwood, east to west. They stopped at the bridge of Cadea, the turning point to the West, and sat by the quiet riverbank under a mighty oak tree to rest.  
  
"If we stayed to the forest road," said Illdinar, "We could rest at Rhosgabel at the forest's edge. From there it is but 10 leagues to the Old Ford on the Anduin River. Euphratas is not far from there."  
  
Illdinar tugged his water skin from one of the sacks that Neonean carried. It was packed so tightly that the entire sack moved on her back as he pulled it free. Neonean spun her great head about and nudged Illdinar, as if to reproach him for his forcefulness. Illdinar did not move, but playfully patted Neonean on her forehead between her eyes. She neighed and shook her head, but seemed appeased at the attention and began to munch unconcerned on some soft river grasses. Kerrinais leaned back onto the grass and stared up the trunk of the great tree and into the sky beyond.  
  
"There is some wisdom in traveling to Euphratas first," Kerrinais said, "King Olandin is farthest to the east and would receive us best I think. If there should be disorder in the kingdoms beyond, we would surely hear of it there. If there is no news, then we might even travel to Sillaris at the northern most corners of the brown lands." Legolas stared aimlessly out to the great stretch of road beyond the old wooden bridge.  
  
"I do not think we will need to journey as far as that," he said, "My father has not commanded us to venture further than Euphratas. If we keep to the trail of Asha, the forest river will stay with us almost to the borders of Irwindal. Tuluth would then be only 2 or 3 leagues to the south. King Gillindon of Irwindal is no friend to our kindred, yet he has no cause to despise us."  
  
Illdinar shook his head doubtfully.  
  
"King Gillindon has never sent a friendly emissary to our wood, Legolas. He has sent no offering of friendship to King Thranduil."  
  
"But neither has he proved to be other than a friend, and he has struck no blow to our forests," Legolas reminded him.  
  
"I have heard," said Kerrinais, "That King Gillindon keeps his own forest for his people because he will not give leave to cut wood of the eldar, and even offers it for shelter to the passing guests who prefer trees to castle stones."  
  
"There you see," grinned Legolas, "Our guesthouse is ready made at Irwindal. Let us leastways go there and to Euphratas. Tuluth is but a day's journey from Irwindal, and we may might venture there while keeping camp in King Gillindon's forest, if we are received well."  
  
And so they set out once again, remaining on the trail of Asha as before, passing no other creatures in the forest. When the light began to fade away on the eighth day, the three friends were but two leagues from the edge of Mirkwood. They made camp in a small glade, away from the river's edge. Kerrinais and Illdinar sat facing the fire as Legolas carefully unwrapped a bread loaf. This was their first meal using their lembas. They had little time to fish that day, and none were of a mind to catch something now. Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, whispered in elvish before breaking off a small piece of the waybread and handing it to Illdinar. The elf leaned forward, smiling slightly as he took the bread, and bit into it. Legolas then handed a piece to Kerrinais, who put it down on his leather water skin. Kerrinais stood up and walked a few paces to where Neonean stood, and began untangling her long mane.  
  
"Come eat," said Illdinar, "For the trail has been long and we need to rest. Neonean may forgive you for ignoring her till the dawn comes."  
  
"If I ignore her, then surely Legolas will have taken my place by morning," Kerrinais replied. As if to announce her preference, Neonean at once whinnied, shaking her long mane out of Kerrinais's hand.  
  
"Apparently, she prefers Legolas to all," Illdinar mused, "Come Kerrinais, come and eat." Kerrinais paid little attention to Illdinar's request. Instead he gently picked up a lock of Neonean's mane, and began to untangle it again. Legolas grinned as he watched Neonean shake her mighty head away from the elf, ripping her mane from his hand. Each time Kerrinais patiently picked up the lock of mane and continued where he left off. Suddenly, the smile faded from Legolas and he sat up straight while looking around the glade. Almost at the same time, Kerrinais let go of Neonean's mane, and also gazed to the dark forest as well.  
  
"Can you feel it," Legolas said to Illdinar. The elf slowly placed his water skin on the ground next to him.  
  
"It is as though something has suddenly been placed in our midst," said Kerrinais walking over to the fire, "Perhaps we should find another place to camp tonight." Legolas looked up into the trees, peering through uppermost branches to the half moon, which was slowly rising in the night sky. The branches swayed and lurched in the cool night wind. He suddenly realized that Neonean had walked away from the camp while he searched the woods from above, and was now nowhere to be seen. Illdinar began to stand, but Legolas held out his arm to prevent him from moving.  
  
"There is no sound, " Legolas said, half alarmed, "No chirp of a cricket, no bird or toad. All is silent." The three elves sat pensively for several minutes, not moving or speaking, but turned their puzzled heads in every direction. Then, almost simultaneously all eyes fell to the crackling fire in front of them, which began to flicker a bluish-green. At first it was almost too pale to tell, but as they watched, the gleam of color suddenly issued forth, jumping and dancing into the air. From the heat of the bluest flame came a single, tiny butterfly, all bathed in bright royal blue, emanating its own light, no bigger than the end of a finger.  
  
"LOOK!" gasped Illdinar, "A Carner Blue!! This is an ill omen indeed!" No one moved, but all eyes remained fixed upon the tiny creature as it floated and dived around the camp. To Legolas though, it seemed not entirely shocking, and he cocked his head from one side to the other, studying the butterfly in wonderment. He had heard stories and myths about the great portents of the future, and there were but few elven songs speaking of the formidable power of the Carner Blue. Yet, here before him was the very myth of his youth. Almost as if it heard Illdinar speak, the insect floated effortlessly before him, and landed briefly on his tunic. Illdinar's eyes widened, but he remained perfectly still. Then almost as quickly, it became airborne once more and landed on Legolas's flaxen hair. Legolas did not speak, but he saw the strained looks on his companion's faces, and he knew that it was upon him. Finally it alighted for the last time and flew directly into the blue-green flame of the campfire, disappearing in a whiff of widened flames. For some time, the three companions did not stir from their places, but sat watching the campfire. No one moved until Neonean ambled into the camp from the darkness beyond, and nudged Legolas on his back. Unprepared for the mischievous shove, Legolas nearly fell over, the first time this had ever happened, and it seemed to shock him back from his thoughts.  
  
"An ill omen," muttered Illdinar at last. Legolas calmly arose and stroked Neonean's wide neck.  
  
"Perhaps not," said Legolas thoughtfully, "There are some elven songs that speak of the mystical Carner Blue as a bringer of good fortune, but I fear there is no way to tell."  
  
Kerrinais was still transfixed, staring into the flame of the fire.  
  
"I have heard of the omened butterflies, but before this night, I had never seen one," said Kerrinais, "There is rumor that the Carner Blues are emissaries from wizards. However, it does not matter. I am inclined to agree with Legolas. There is no telling the judgment of this, good or ill. But we cannot return to King Thranduil empty-handed of findings. Whatever the outcome of this visitation, we must continue the journey."  
  
The remainder of the night was spent in restless reflection for everyone. Kerrinais and Legolas each chewed a small piece of lembas and also ate some wild blueberries they had picked in a forest clearing. When the half moon was high, Illdinar silently left the camp, and roamed in the woods to clear his thoughts. But he carried Menea with him, and wherever he went, his companions needed only to look into the dark forest, and they could see their companion by the faint silver glow of the blade.  
  
By the sun's first golden light, the mood in the camp was uplifted, and they continued the journey towards the small kingdom of Irwindal. The day passed by without incident, and at last they came to the straight at the forest edge. From this point, the elves would have to follow the forest river tributary closely, for the trail of Asha ended at the border of Mirkwood. The river then emptied into the larger Anduin, just north of the river Gladden. At the ford between the tributary and the Anduin, the three travelers turned northward, for Irwindal was now but 3 or 4 leagues away. The city was less than a day's journey from them, but all could clearly see the ominous blackened area in the distance. It was a stark contrast to the greens and subdued browns of the rest of the plain horizon.  
  
"Is the city under attack?" asked Illdinar, straining his eyes. Legolas looked to the right and left of the scorched area, as though he were trying to get a better view.  
  
"I do not think so," said Kerrinais, "I do not see any movement on the plain, neither army nor stragglers. Nothing." Neonean reared her mighty head and neighed, and Legolas stepped forward, putting his hand on her muzzle. He spoke quiet elvish words to her, and she fell silent.  
  
"We could bypass the city, and then go directly to Euphratas. King Thranduil commanded us to bring news only, not to venture into a battle." Legolas shook his head.  
  
"We should go to Irwindal and see what has happened," said Legolas, "There may be some survivors. We will take them with us to Euphratas. It would save King Olandin the trouble of assembling a rescue."  
  
Illdinar unsheathed Menea, and both Legolas and Kerrinais readied bow and arrow. The traveling progressed slower now. As they went, they scoped all the lands around them for signs of attack or ambush, but there was none. At length they came to an enormous swath of crushed mud, appearing from the south and continuing north. Legolas stopped at the edge of the huge trail, and looked at the large, wide track prints.  
  
"They came from the south," Legolas said, his face showing his concern.  
  
"They had at least several hundred horses," said Kerrinais looking about, "An attack from Tuluth?" Legolas shook his head.  
  
"No....that makes no sense. The 3 kings of the blue cities are all allied, and guard the pass between Mirkwood and the mountains. No, this is something else. Look at these footprints, they are too wide and heavy for a mortal man, even one who is armored. The tracks are too deep."  
  
"Orcs?" questioned Illdinar. The mere mention of the word seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Legolas looked up at him, knowing that he had guessed correctly, yet he did not reply.  
  
"Why would they come this far north?" said Kerrinais, "To what end could this mean? These kingdoms are small, save for Euphratas, and they would be only a little victory." Legolas looked at Kerrinais and stood up.  
  
"To the Dark Lord, no kingdom is too small to overthrow. If all the smaller kingdoms of the land are taken, then half of Middle-Earth will be his. If this indeed is the beginning of a siege of the pass here, we must find out quickly."  
  
They continued all that night, and into the next day, only stopping to drink from their water skins and eat from their reserves. Not even Neonean drank from the abundant Anduin that flowed freely only a few hundred yards from them. The orcs had traveled near the water, and may even yet be poisoning it from some unknown point upstream. Legolas poured handfuls of water from his container and let Neonean lap from his hand. Just after midday, they arrived on the outskirts of the forests of Irwindal. The trees were blackened to mere stumps from a great fire that had been set to them. Not one remained unscathed. As they made their way to the city beyond, they began finding the burned remains of the people of Irwindal, those who had first escaped the initial onslaught and ran for sanctuary into the woodlands. Here they were pursued and engulfed by the great fire that was lit to all areas of the forest. They continued on through the remains of the ravaged woodland trail, watchful of everything surrounding them, but there was only the foul scent of burning decay and smoke. The small trail emptied out to a road that led directly to the city, once filled with commerce and traders, now silent and still. Up the hill they continued towards the castle, which majestically overlooked the city, its outer walls now crumbled and ruined. Peering into windows and through doorways, there was no survivor of the attack, only the dead. Illdinar spoke at last. Bending over, he pulled a single arrow from a small dog that lay in the street.  
  
"They even killed the animals," said Illdinar, examining the arrow, "Orcs of Gorthaur, of this there is no doubt. But look at the arrow. A strange color of red there is to the shaft. Is it poisoned? Not of flower or clay of the soil. I have not seen the like of it."  
  
He placed it on the road silently, so as not to make a sound. As they approached the great gateway to the castle, they stopped to peer over the edge of a large trench. There at the base and piled high, were the remains of the fallen orc warriors. The dead of the enemy had been gathered and burned before the army left. Clearly the defense of the city had been savage. Neonean reared her head once again, but Legolas quickly raised his hand, and she fell quiet. Carefully, they continued on. Although the wooden doorways leading into the castle were heavy, none remained unopened. None remained unbroken. At the base of the great stone stairway, Legolas spoke softly to Neonean, and she obediently remained behind as the trio continued up into the main halls of the castle. Through every hallway they checked, weapons drawn.  
  
Legolas stepped over a heavy wooden door that was literally torn off its hinges, and peered into the room beyond. Furniture was broken and thrown across the room. Some heavier pieces had been piled against the doorway, but the brace did not hold. Delicate, shimmering silks, now dirtied and spoiled, were torn from the huge bedposts. Even the mattress from the bed had been ripped apart by a huge knife. Broken vases and glass covered the floor. Legolas looked about the room in awe of the particular savagery that had occurred. Then he noticed something of interest, and nimbly jumped over a heavy bureau to approach the window.  
  
With his left hand he picked up a small bit of rope, one end of it tied to the base of the heavy bed, leading up to the window and out. He peered out over the wall, which dropped a hundred feet. Little of the rope remained. It had been burned from below, and now only 15 feet or so of the line remained intact. Further down, Legolas could see the remains of a secluded set of trees, charred and bereft of leaves or bark, and he surmised the owner of the room had attempted to make their escape from that rope. He looked at the fields beyond, which bordered the ruined bigger forest, and imagined what a pleasant room it must have been. One would only need to awake at first daylight and look out that window onto the dewed morning grasses, now trodden down, and gaze further out the beauty of the great forest of Irwindal. Suddenly, he heard a soft, almost muted noise from behind. Legolas whirled around in an instant, an arrow fitted to his bow, ready to fly. But it was only Kerrinais, carefully lifting a heavy swath of cloth that had been cast aside during the fight. Legolas relaxed his arm, and carefully stepped towards his friend. He was bending over the body of a woman, laying face up under the coverlet.  
  
"I thought someone had escaped," Legolas said looking at her, sighing, "There is a rope attached to the bed which hangs out the window." Kerrinais put his hand to her mouth to see if he could detect her breath. There was none. Legolas considered her smoke covered and beaten face. He thought she would have been pretty in life, but such thoughts were quickly erased as he saw the many wounds that she had sustained.  
  
"She never had a chance to escape," he thought to himself.  
  
"The king's daughter? This room is certainly one of the family quarters," said Kerrinais.  
  
"I don't know," replied Legolas, "The attack on the city was swift and without warning, yet she must have heard something. She barricaded herself inside, and attempted a retreat."  
  
"Look at this," Kerrinais said, gingerly lifting the woman's arm. Legolas bent closer. As Kerrinais held up her arm, Legolas could see her palm covered with blood as though she had dipped it in red paint. Below her arm, a perfect handprint was left on the floor next to where she lay. Pain seemed to cross Legolas's face as a new revelation came to him.  
  
"She knew she was going to die," he whispered solemnly. Kerrinais placed her arm back in its original position, and replaced the coverlet.  
  
At that moment, Illdinar appeared in the doorway to the room. He stepped in slightly, gazing around the room and then at his companions.  
  
"I have searched the great hall, and the remainder of the enclave, but there is no sign of the King. He may have escaped somehow."  
  
"And leave his daughter to her doom?" asked Kerrinais, lifting up the coverlet to show the dead woman underneath. Illdinar looked at the woman in pity as Kerrinais once again covered her face.  
  
"I do not believe he did," said Legolas, "I do not think anyone survived this onslaught. Not even an animal or tree was spared. Either the king was taken prisoner or he was killed like the others."  
  
"It seems unlikely that the orcs would wreck the kingdom and then take the king prisoner. And why did they not leave a troop behind?" replied Illdinar. Kerrinais stood up and looked around the room.  
  
"We should hasten to Tuluth in the South. That is the nearest city, and any survivors would go there."  
  
They left the room just as the final beams of sunlight were waning in the distance. They returned to the stone stairway, where Neonean stood patiently waiting for their return. Legolas patted her neck as he went past her, and she placidly turned and followed them out to the city road. They left the city in the darkness, following a large outlet until it emptied into the Anduin. Here they chose to rest at the great river.  
  
The sound of the rushing water was a comfort to them, and they all were tired and forlorn from their grim discovery. That night, no fire was lit. After eating a small meal of dried fruit and lembas, Kerrinais and Illdinar each retreated to a secluded area, and their soft elvish songs for the dead could be detected only by Legolas's keen ears. But Legolas did not sing a lament. Instead, he spoke a short elven prayer for the trees that were sundered, and after some time and much deliberation, he spoke another prayer for the dead woman in the royal apartment of the castle.  
  
They started out before the sun rose on the next day, moving silently along the river's edge, passing through the remains of the great forest. Legolas once again spoke a prayer for the fallen trees. They continued and at length came to where they had crossed the ford at the Anduin. They headed for the small area of Tuluth, which almost rested upon the river Gladden. As before, the wrenching stench of death and decay found them long before they actually came to the city. And as with Irwindal, the entire city was devastated and left to rot. Once again, the three elves investigated any standing buildings, but nothing was left. They met in the center square, just as night was once again falling over the mountains.  
  
"Did you find anything?" Kerrinais asked Illdinar as he approached. Illdinar shook his head.  
  
"It is plain that an orc army is taking all the lands up and down the river pass, and wreaking havoc in its wake. Do we now take this news to Mirkwood or do we follow them?"  
  
"I think," said Legolas, "That the battle in Irwindal was recent. If we hasten to Euphratas, we could warn King Olandin or at least gain some knowledge of how many of the enemy there are. Then, if we may, we could bring news to my father. It is worrisome that such an army is little more than 15 leagues from the borders of Mirkwood. But for all my questions, at least I am sure that this army marches to Euphratas."  
  
"Then let us make haste," replied Kerrinais, "Let us make all possible speed to Euphratas to discover the size of this army and to warn King Olandin. But I fear now that we have wasted valuable time."  
  
Even as the blackness of night stretched its cloak over the land, Kerrinais, Legolas, and Illdinar hastened to the river trail on the Anduin. They ran with all swiftness, the pressing need to warn the northern-most kingdom on the great river always in their minds. After some hours, it was even difficult for Neonean to maintain the pace. The next morning the trio passed the still blackened forest of Irwindal and they continued up the west bank of the Anduin. It was a 7-day journey to the Old Ford that intersected the Anduin and the city of Euphratas. They neither slept nor took camp. On the third night, they traveled slower when a pelting rain poured over the hills. Arriving at a small clump of thick trees, Kerrinais stopped and gathered several huge leaves from one of the overhanging branches. He then fashioned a sort of cone that he held in his hand to catch the rainwater. Water quickly dripped out from cracks in the bottom, between the leaves, but it was raining so hard, that only a few minutes passed before the bowl was halfway filled. Kerrinais sipped from the edge of leaves and brought it directly to Legolas, who gladly sipped from the cup as well. Illdinar then drank, before returning the cup to Kerrinais. Holding the cone out to the downpour, Kerrinais filled it again. He also retrieved all three of their water skins and with much care, began to cautiously fill each. Legolas handed Illdinar a Mallorn leaf containing the remainder of a lembas loaf. He cupped his hand over the end of the bread, attempting to keep it from getting drenched. Neonean did not mind the downpour, and contently stood in the middle of a small field, munching on some wet grass. Legolas sat beside Illdinar, and adjusted his quiver belt. When the rain had subsided, they began their journey again, holding close to the river.  
  
In the early morning on the 7th day from Tuluth, the trio arrived in the blue hills region. In the distance, the screams of terror and panic of the people could be heard, of clashing swords and armor, of wailing horses and the cries of men and women. Great billows of smoke rose in the distance as farm houses burned. Kerrinais and Legolas crawled on their bellies to peer over the crest of the hill, hidden by the large boulders that littered the landscape.  
  
"We are too late," whispered Kerrinais, "The city is already under attack!"  
  
"We must find the King if we can," whispered Legolas, "The main siege is approaching from the west. We will try to enter from the east portion, by the river."  
  
"There are too many of them," whispered Kerrinais doubtfully, "We should ride to Mirkwood with all haste and tell the your father of this."  
  
"No," replied Legolas breathing deeply, "We retrieve the King of Euphratas. He perhaps knows who assails the lands. We must know what this foul army plans to do next."  
  
They crawled back to where Illdinar waited, holding Neonean's great head in his arm. Legolas sprang to his feet, and began ripping away at the supply bags, tossing them to the ground.  
  
"We must retrieve the king," ordered Legolas jumping to Neonean's back, "I will try to reach the battlement from the North side, and see if there is a retreat. Kerrinais, look to the Southeastern shore entrance to the castle. Illdinar, stay hidden and keep watch, we must know which way the army turns...east to Mirkwood or west to Isodor and Rivendell. We meet here at nightfall!" Illdinar nodded, and with a whisper to Neonean, the horse reeled around on its slender legs and road away. Kerrinais, bow at the ready, stealthily slipped down the rock face. Then, running across a smoldering field, he came to the first burning house and disappeared behind a battered and broken doorway.  
  
Legolas rode swiftly back to where the river, with its tall reeds and moors, provided cover. As they approached the the castle, Legolas slumped over Neonean's back, making the appearance of a warrior struck down in the battle. His long, blond hair covered his face, but all the while he whispered directions in elvish to his horse. At the northernmost gate, the bombardment had already crashed through. The remaining soldiers were busily engaged against squealing orcs in hand-to-hand battle. Legolas had nearly cleared the gate in this manner when an orc, bathed in blood and laughing wretchedly, ran up to Neonean and pulled savagely at Legolas's leg to drag him off the great steed.  
  
"I won't eat you," he hissed, "But your horse has some meat on it and I've haven't had a good meal for days! She looks tasty!"  
  
Legolas instantly sprang up, kicking the shocked and bewildered orc to the ground. In less than a moment, Legolas fit an arrow to his long elven bow and let it fly, hitting the orc squarely between the eyes. The element of disguise being over, a rush of orcs now assailed him. Legolas yelled to Neonean. She leaped into the air, and charged up the large, wide stairway. Scores of orcs fell to either side in a great wave before the bellowing horse as she raced forward. Legolas held to her sides with his legs, letting arrows fly in all directions, slaying each orc where it stood. Coming to the top of the stairway, Legolas came to a small landing, with another doorway. This one was opened but not broken. Bending low, he rode his horse through the opening, dismounted, and shut the heavy door, replacing its heavy wooden bolt. A throng of angry orc warriors pounded at the door as Legolas rode deeper into the bowels of the castle.  
  
Nimbly mounting Neonean again, he continued down the corridor, pulling his long silver knife from its sheath, slashing down the hideous, contorted orcs as they jumped out of doorways at him. All along the hallway and into the main hall Legolas rode, finding nothing but the slain and those of the orc army that had left the outside battle to pillage the interior of the castle. Through the rooms he raced, until he came to the throne room. At the far end, by the opposite entrance, Kerrinais had already arrived and was fighting two large orcs, a sword in each hand. Legolas jumped off Neonean and ran headlong into the fight, catching one off its guard, slashing its throat in one fell swoop. The remaining orc whirled around, hitting Legolas squarely in the chest with the butt of his iron blade, knocking him off his feet. Kerrinais pushed forward with both blades, driving the hideous creature back and into the center of the room. Here he fought the monster, swords clanging, sparks flying. But as the creature backed away, it lost its footing, tangled in the fallen banner of the king. Kerrinais seized the moment of advantage, running the creature through. It fell with a pained yowl to the floor, but laughed at Kerrinais, who stood before him breathing hard.  
  
"You cursed thing!!" he grimaced, "Rakal will finish your kind when he's finished here! He'll cut you up and leave nothing but pieces!"  
  
Kerrinais grabbed him roughly by the collar, pulling him off his knees.  
  
"Where is Rakal taking the army next?" Kerrinais ordered. The orc let out a hideous laugh and gurgled. Kerrinais raised his sword above the orcs swollen head.  
  
"Where there is no defense!! He will eat the hearts of his slaves. No one escapes!" he grinned evilly.  
  
In a final effort, the orc grabbed for Kerrinais's sword arm, but Kerrinais was stronger and pushed the sword instead into the great orc's chest. The orc slumped over and was dead. Kerrinais let go of the orc's collar and it fell limp to the ground. Then turning around, he walked towards Legolas, who was bending over a woman. With a quick movement, Legolas pulled an arrow from her, and held it up to Kerrinais as he approached.  
  
"The same red arrow from Irwindal," said Legolas, letting it fall to the floor.  
  
"The king is dead," breathed Kerrinais, "He lies in one of the smaller chambers." Legolas looked down at the woman.  
  
"Legolas," said Kerrinais, "This is Rakal's army." Legolas stared back at him in disbelief.  
  
"Rakal," Legolas murmured, looking away, "His orcs grow careless...we have made our way into the center of the castle without defeat."  
  
"I believe they mean an attack on an elven city next," Kerrinais said under his breath. Legolas jerked his head around, his mouth slightly open.  
  
"Are you sure of this?" he asked. Kerrinais nodded.  
  
"The beast told me the army goes next where there is no defense," said Kerrinais, "And Mirkwood's borders are well protected. I believe they mean to cross the great pass towards Rivendell. There are fewer warriors there. This is the beginning of the siege on the elven lands, Legolas. We must gather all the elves together that we can in defense of the city. If Rakal comes for war in Isodor or Imladris, then he means to wipe out the mountain elves, but I think he needed the pass along the river cleared...no doubt for another army behind."  
  
"Come," yelled Legolas, running to Neonean, "We ride at once!"  
  
Holding out his arm, Legolas pulled Kerrinais up on Neonean's back behind him, and they galloped off down another large hallway. At length they approached a large door, leading out to the north wall parapet. They burst through the opening, orcs running at them from all sides. Kerrinais, two swords in hand, hacked and slashed at the orcs that jumped at them from the right side. One orc grabbed Neonean by her mane, readying his knife. He swept a large, black arm in the air to strike when Legolas kicked the creature in the face, sending it reeling back. With an invisible flash of his elven sword, the beast fell, its head rolling in the opposite direction. Another came running up from behind, slashing wildly at the horse's legs. Neonean whinnied as she ran, but she did not attempt to kick the creature or throw the elves from her back. They streaked along the lookout to the edge of the parapet.  
  
"The river is deep and swift on the north side," cried Legolas, "Make ready!!"  
  
Kerrinais held tightly onto Legolas's waist, kicking orcs aside as they raced towards the edge. With a giant leap, the horse flew in the air over the side of the battlement, diving with a huge splash into the river below. Kerrinais and Legolas broke the surface of the water amid a volley of arrows, but the current was strong there, and the elves and the horse were pulled swiftly away, where the threat of the orc arrows lessened. Downriver, Neonean had already found her way to the shoreline, and was pulling her great girth from the water. Legolas climbed out. He turned, extending his hand to Kerrinais, pulling him to safety. Once again in the tall reeds, they edged their way back, stopping only once to seclude themselves from an orc patrol. Kerrinais held his knives ready, and Legolas stood under Neonean's neck, holding her muzzle to his shoulder, whispering. The horse slowly knelt down into the mud, and lay on its side, unmoving. The black creatures passed within a few yards of them, but night was waning fast, and the elves could not be seen.  
  
"Rotten slugs!!" one said trudging along through the mud, "They drowned for sure, and now we won't get their weapons!"  
  
"Stop your whining!" argued the other, "There is plenty enough for the likes of you in the castle yet, if you aren't too afraid to fight for it."  
  
The other stopped and grabbed the other by the neck.  
  
"I'll slit you from ear to ear where you stand! Is that brave enough?" he snarled.  
  
The other orc seemed to quail, and put an arm above his head.  
  
"No need for this! The elves are dead in the river. We'll have plenty of elf things after we finish Isodor. I'll tell Rakal myself, and you can take your fill in the castle." The bigger orc threw his companion in the mud and trudged on mumbling. The other followed his companion, pulling himself out of the mire, cursing under his breath. Legolas and Kerrinais looked at each other. The elves watched the two orcs approach the outer wall of the castle. A giant orc, clad in red and black came riding up to them with several other riders behind. The two knelt before his mighty warhorse, the severed heads of the slain hung from rope tied to his saddle.  
  
Kerrinais leaned in and whispered to Legolas.  
  
"That is Rakal, I am sure of it," he said softly. Legolas said nothing but only watched him. A short discourse with the patrol ended with a volley of cursing and yelling. The larger orc jumped to his feet, but Rakal drew a large sword and ran the sentry through, and tossed him aside. The smaller orc turned in terror and ran. Rakal threw down his sword, and reared on his black horse, giving chase. The monstrous orc captain, readying his bow and arrow, aimed a single red shaft at the fleeing minion, and then shot the sentry through the back of its head, the grim red arrow protruding out its eye. It fell dead in the mud. Whirling around on his mount once more, Rakal screamed orders, pointing up the river, and twelve horsed riders galloped off in the direction where Legolas and Kerrinais had jumped off the battlement.  
  
"I want to see their broken bodies!" he screamed, "Don't leave here until you bring them to me!"  
  
When the patrols had stopped, Legolas made a soft, birdlike whistling sound, and Neonean came to life. But the mud was thick by the riverbank, and even Neonean labored to stand. The two elves quickly came to her side and pushed on the horse to help her get to her feet. All of them were mud soaked, but they were alive. They continued quietly to the foothills outside the town to meet Illdinar. They proceeded slowly, with drawn weapons, but no more patrols were encountered. Kerrinais moved on ahead, but coming around the side, he stopped short, dropping his sword. Legolas saw the incredulous stare on his face and a sense of dread overwhelmed him. He ran past Kerrinais to see the ruined devastation of the area. Their supplies had been ransacked and strewn about. This was merely an annoyance to Legolas, but after looking further out, he stopped short. Just beyond the base of the hillside, lying on the wet ground was Illdinar, a single red-shafted arrow protruding from his right eye.  
  
Legolas cried out and ran to him. Kneeling gently beside him, his face contorted with uncontrollable sorrow. Legolas gently smoothed back a lock of Illdinar's hair from his face. Kerrinais came up slowly from behind, bent down on one knee, and murmured a soft elven lament for their fallen friend. Gingerly plucking the arrow from Illdinar, Legolas held it in his hand for a moment before dropping it to the ground. His face grew red with rage, and he leaped to his feet. Kerrinais's eyes widened, and he knew that Legolas meant to run back into the fray to confront Illdinar's killer. He grabbed Legolas as he ran by, wrestling his struggling friend to the ground.  
  
"We have no time for this!!" cried Kerrinais, "Illdinar is dead, Legolas. You can't help him now! We have to warn Isodor and Rivendell that Rakal is coming! Meet him in battle there! Avenge Illdinar there! You can not hope to slay him here and now...the city is taken!"  
  
Legolas glared at Kerrinais, uncontrolled anger in his eyes. He roughly pushed Kerrinais aside, and stood up.  
  
"Let us ride then to Lord Elrond," Legolas said in a low voice.  
  
Walking once more to where Illdinar lay, Legolas bent down on his knee, and placed his trembling hand on Illdinar's shoulder. Then he stood up and surveyed the area. Walking a short distance, he pulled aside a remnant of a linen sack. Beneath it sat the glowing blade of Menea, trampled into the mud. Legolas picked up the white blade and brushed it off with his hand and fitted it into his belt. As he walked by, Kerrinais stretched out his arm, resting his hand on Legolas's arm. The elf stopped, looking into his friend's sad eyes. Legolas struggled to control himself, only nodding. They slowly walked back to where Illdinar lay, and bent down on their knees to murmur elvish prayers. Then mounting Neonean, the two elves galloped west towards the old Ford pass of the Misty Mountains. 


	2. Escaping Irwindal

On her downy elven bed, Lisaine lay quietly under a soft quilt. Her entire body ached, as did her mind. Someone had cleaned her muddy hair and body, although she could still see vestiges of dirt on her arms. She wore a loose fitting elven robe, which was soft as rabbit's fur to the touch. Her other clothes were hung over a chair in the corner. They were still wet and caked with mud. She thought she must have fallen asleep for a time, though for how long she did not know. She thought to rise from her bed and beg an interview with Lord Elrond, but her grief all but prevented her from moving. And there was nothing he could do to prevent what had already happened. The room was empty. She turned her head to one side, and winced. Alnein was not there. Lisaine looked up at the marvelous intricate ceiling. This was one of the rooms she often slept in when she would visit Rivendell. She thought to herself how her father often chided her for visiting the elven realms.  
  
"We have no place with the elves, daughter. They find us, even those of us royal, as crude and unrefined. We are but a fledgling race to the immortals, and they should never willingly give us our due place or respect in the world."  
  
For this reason the king maintained no alliance with the elves, and though he discouraged his only daughter from keeping her friendship with Rivendell, he never prevented her from visiting as often as she liked. He rarely prevented her from doing whatever amusements she contrived. When Lisaine begged the king to maintain the great forest, he did not deny her. When she desired that the very trees touch her windows, he did not refuse her. A slight smile curled her lips. He was not merely the King to Lisaine, but a father who loved his daughter. Here in Rivendell, Lisaine came often as a commoner, choosing not to reveal herself, assuming that her father's discontent with the elves might dampen her own standing. Imladris was traditionally a sanctuary for wanderers, though Lisaine's acquaintance with the wood elf, Alnein, almost certainly was the reason for her welcome in Rivendell originally. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly back in time to when she was still a child, and she had found the elf walking along the banks of the Anduin. Lisaine had seen the elf approach from a distance as she hid from her nanny in the tall reeds. When Alnein came close enough, Lisaine bound out at the surprised elf, laughing and giggling. At that time, Alnein was an adult to her, but still, she did not shy away from talking to the elf. They walked a short while along the riverbank.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Lisaine asked the elf politely, "Have you lost your way?"  
  
"No indeed, little one," the elf answered amused, "I am bound over the Misty Mountains for the elf havens of Isodor and Imladris. Should you be here alone?"  
  
"Oh, I come to the river all the time, although I prefer the forests! I sneak out when my father isn't watching me. I hate being stuck in a stuffy old house all the time!" The elf smiled looking down at the girl. Lisaine watched the elf's graceful walk and attempted to mimic her.  
  
"Are you a wizard? I have never seen anyone who glows so brightly as you."  
  
"I am not a wizard," Alnein answered, "I am an elf, and I have lately come from the great forests of the north."  
  
The child looked at her doubtfully up and down.  
  
"An elf!!" Lisaine said amazed, "Where are your wings? I have heard that elves can fly." The elf laughed.  
  
"I cannot fly," she grinned, "I have only my legs to carry me."  
  
"You can't fly? You'll not get very far over the mountains walking," the child said soberly, "Come with me. My father has many, many horses, and he'll give you one if you want." The elf shook her head.  
  
"Thank you, no, little one. One such as I would not be welcomed in your village, and horses are hard to come by. I'm sure that your father would miss even one horse. It is better if we part company before someone sees us. You must return to your house now."  
  
"No! No!" cried the child, "I am princess Lisaine, and my father is the King of Irwindal. Take me back to my father, and if I ask him, he will give you a horse!"  
  
And so the young princess coaxed the elf to accompany her into the city, amidst stares and gawks from the townspeople. She led the reluctant elf to the very gates of her father's house. The guards looked at each other in wonder, but bowed low before the young princess and opened the heavy wooden doors to the king's great hall at the young girl's command. Lisaine took the elf directly to her father, pushing her way past guards and servants. Half a dozen elegantly dressed men glanced upward in surprise as Lisaine walked proudly into the vast chamber.  
  
"Father! Father!" she grinned as she ran to the king, "I have made a new friend! She is making her way to the elf havens over the mountains and has no horse. Please say that you'll give her one!"  
  
The king stared at his daughter, and then at the elf, who was bowing low to him. Strapped to her back was an elegantly scrolled longbow of Mirkwood. Her long brown tresses fell about her shoulders. Looking again at Lisaine, he said gently,  
  
"I have been worried for you child! Where have you run off to now? You should not be so foolish, Lisaine. You know I do not like it when you run about the countryside. You need someone with you."  
  
"But I was safe father!" the child implored. She broke away from her father's arms and ran to Alnein, "I was with an elf! And they are the greatest of warriors! You told me so yourself!!"  
  
Alnein glanced sideways at Lisaine, and the child winked back at her. The king's eyes tightened on Alnein.  
  
"Step forth. What is your name?"  
  
The elf stood erect and approached the king, stopping halfway through the great room.  
  
"I am Alneinwen, your highness, from the great forest of Mirkwood."  
  
The king gazed back at his daughter, who stood frozen with anticipation on her face.  
  
"Then, Alneinwen, elf of Mirkwood, I thank you for retrieving my daughter and bringing her back to safety. Accompany my steward, and you shall have supplies and any horse in my stable for your journey. Rest awhile in our woodlands if you wish it, before you continue on your way."  
  
Lisaine bubbled with excitement.  
  
"Let me go too! Can I go and help her pick out her horse?!" Lisaine cried happily. Her father smiled back.  
  
"Only if you promise me you will return straightaway. No more running into the woods or down to the river. It is not safe for you."  
  
The child nodded in agreement, jumping up and down. The king sent his steward and a guard with the elf and the young princess. The small company left the hall and headed for the great stables. Lisaine skipped and jumped with delight the entire time. She could hardly be contained. As fast as Alnein would answer one question, the young princess would think of another. By evening, Alnein was equipped with a large Bay stallion and several sacks of food. Much to Lisaine's dismay, Alnein declined to delay her journey and stay within the vast Irwindal forest. She was in a hurry to arrive in Isodor. Still, Lisaine was ecstatic at meeting such a mythical being. As the elf prepared to leave, she turned to the young child.  
  
"I shall always be in your debt for your kindness to me, little princess." she smiled, "If ever you come to the elf havens of Isodor or Imladris, I shall endeavor to show you the same kindness. From this day forth, I shall call you my friend."  
  
"Someday," Lisaine beamed, "I'm going to be an elf too!"  
  
Alnein laughed and shook her head. Then she hopped lightly on the large horse and placed a hand over her heart and then extended it to the young princess. Lisaine was not quite sure what that meant, but she followed suit, and extended her own hand to the elf. The elf seemed pleased, and then she bent forward and whispered to the horse, and they galloped away.  
  
Lisaine was giddy with happiness as she watched the elf ride westward. Slowly the happy memory faded. Almost as soon as she was able to ride, she begged her father to allow her to visit Imladris to see her elven friend. Although she was always accompanied by a troop of soldiers, at her insistence, the princess only proceeded into the city limits accompanied with one warrior. Later, Alnein frequently accompanied the princess herself.  
  
Lisaine's thoughts turned soberly to Lord Elrond. She often wondered if he knew more of her than he let on. He might have guessed that she was someone of importance, yet he never pressed her for more information than she was willing to provide to him. Lisaine never sought high standing among the elves of Rivendell. She imagined how shocked her father would have been had he ever known how she attended dinners and ceremonies not as a distinguished guest, but as a mere servant. Now her very hope and life depended on that disguise. That ambiguous station she held with the elves now shielded her from the terrors beyond. The princess looked to the small wooden table beside the bed. Weakly reaching her arm to the side, she lifted a small bit of shining white linen to reveal her golden tiara and her father's signet ring. Letting the cloth drop back onto the diadem, Lisaine groaned slightly as she moved her arm back to the bed.  
  
"Alnein protects me even now," Lisaine thought sadly. But now she did not know how long she would remain unnoticed. For the first time in her life, she felt a deep-seated fear inside her. Fear that she would be turned away from the safety of Rivendell because of who she was; heir to the throne of Irwindal, and the only living survivor of Rakal's attack. Outside her terrace, a small bird sang merrily on the ivy-covered wall.  
  
"Unaware of the evils of the earth," she whispered to herself, "Would that I could be that little creature and simply fly to a greener untouched place as he can." She closed her eyes again, tears streaming down the side of her face, and onto her matted hair. Once again sleep overtook her.  
  
More time passed. Lisaine awoke to hear faint footsteps climbing the stone stairway to her chambers. She struggled to sit up in bed as Alnein, both a Mirkwood and Rivendell elf walked silently through the entrance of the room. She carried with her a small wooden tray with a cup of water and a small wooden bowl, filled with nuts and berries. Alnein quickly walked directly over to the side table, placing the tray down, pushing the diadem and ring, still cloaked in linen, farther back on the table.  
  
"I have brought you something to eat," she said, but Lisaine could not think about eating. In truth, she had not eaten for days, and felt weakened, but she had no inclination to eat. All at once, a tall, dark elf appeared at the door, gliding into the room. His long velvet robe was richly adorned with silver and gold threads. He walked over to the foot of the bed. Alnein bowed slightly, and backed away from the bed. It was Elrond, Lord of the elves of Rivendell, come to see Lisaine for himself. Clearly he wanted something. The princess felt suddenly chilled inside, and she wondered if he had somehow discovered her identity. She blotted out the thought, mindful that the higher elves were capable of communicating without speaking. She did not want him to read her mind.  
  
"Good. You are awake," he said with an approving smile, "You look improved since your arrival here." Lisaine bowed her head slightly in respect, but every movement was a trial for her, and she winced again.  
  
"How long have I been here, my Lord," she asked. Lisaine looked at Alnein, as if she expected her friend to give her the answer, but Alnein would not speak in Lord Elrond's presence.  
  
"You have been asleep for the better part of a day. Alneinwen has brought you to us from the forest beyond Isodor, where she found you." His smile eased Lisaine's reservations a bit, and she leaned back onto her pillow. Alnein moved forward and fluffed the pillow behind the princess's head, helping her to sit up, and then retreated to the corner of the room again.  
  
"Can you tell me what happened?" Lord Elrond asked. His piercing brown eyes searched for clues in Lisaine's expression, but she gave nothing away. Sighing, Lisaine looked once more out the window terrace. Lisaine hesitated, pondering how to answer him.  
  
"I am come from Irwindal," she began slowly, "All I know is the kingdom was attacked by minions of the Dark Lord, bearing the red shafted arrow, and I barely escaped to here." Staring back into Lord Elrond's eyes, she could detect a faint sweep of growing concern across his expression.  
  
"Red shafted arrow," he said slowly, "Are you sure?" She nodded.  
  
"How many others escaped?" he said finally. Lisaine blinked, tears rolled down her pale cheeks.  
  
"Dead," she whispered, "All dead." The appearance of Lord Elrond's face now changed. It seemed to Lisaine that his concern was now alarm.  
  
"ALL dead," he said stepping forward, "Are you sure? Was no one left? The king? Do you know what became of him?"  
  
"The king," she said struggling to keep her composure, "The entire kingdom was devastated, my Lord. I am all that is left living." Alnein sat watching her filled with pity and horror. For a moment Lord Elrond gazed at Lisaine, and then his eyes fell upon the side table. He scrutinized the linen cloth, and then returned his gaze to Lisaine.  
  
"Is there anything else you can tell me," he said at last.  
  
"There is nothing else, my Lord," Lisaine said closing her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the pillow. He nodded. He must content himself for now with the small bit of information Lisaine had given him, and he would question her again later.  
  
"Rest for awhile, Nevariel," he spoke soothingly, "Alneinwen will attend your needs. Take haven in Rivendell, for you are safe in our borders. We will talk again when you are more recovered." Her thoughts drifted momentarily back when the elves first began to call her by that name. How she had always loved the sound of it! Her elven name rolled off the tongue in such a musical and eloquent manner.  
  
Lord Elrond looked once more to the small end table beside the bed, and then turned and walked out of the room.  
  
Lisaine lay quietly for a time. Then she felt the total silence within the chamber descend upon her, and sat bolt upright, thinking that Alnein had left also. Panicked, she surveyed the room. The shadows within the room were growing long now. She had spent the entire day sleeping, and Lisaine began to feel thirsty. A fire of apple wood was merrily burning in the small stone fireplace, warming the room's interior. At last her eyes fell upon a tall, thin figure standing in the corner, calmly watching her. Lying back, she breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"I thought you had left me," she murmured, half smiling.  
  
"Not I," hissed the hideous voice as he jumped forward into the center of the dimly lit room.  
  
Horrified, Lisaine saw the monstrous form draw closer to the bed, lifting its bow slowly, Lisaine perceived the pale red arrow fitted into the bow. Suddenly, he lunged forward, drawing the bow back as far as it could be strained. Lisaine screamed and threw the covers in the air to escape from the other side of the bed.  
  
"Nevariel!! Nevariel!! Wake!" cried Alnein struggling to hold her. Half- crazed, Lisaine fought to free herself from her companion's grip. Then she realized that all was merely a dream, and she fell limp into Alnein's arms, sobbing.  
  
Shielding her eyes from the bright morning light, Lisaine pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. Alnein had just walked back into the room, and was placing a long gray and brown elven dress on the edge of the bed. She had also replaced the bowl that had contained the nuts and berries, with a new one, now filled with lembas, and fruit slices. Slowly, Lisaine stood up, moving her arms to assess their stiffness. She walked over to the table and took a piece of lembas and bit into it. The flavor of it seemed plain to her, not like the fruited and honeyed breads she regularly ate at her father's dinner table. Still there was a distinct sweetness to it, and she felt better almost instantly. She had eaten lembas before, but she could not remember it tasting as good as it did at that moment.  
  
"I have brought an urn with water for you, so you may wash," Alnein said while busily scurrying about the room. Lisaine reached out her hand, and Alnein stopped suddenly, and the two clasped hands for a moment.  
  
"I owe you my life," Lisaine said to her. Alnein gazed at her friend's earnest expression. She no longer seemed gripped by terror, but now seemed resolved and calm, "You have saved me in all directions this past day, and I am ever in your debt." Alnein smiled back.  
  
"We are sisters indeed," said Alnein tightening her grip a bit before letting her hand fall, "But you owe your life to your own spirit. I merely found you when you were already bent on the trail to Rivendell. You had made your escape." Lisaine stepped closer.  
  
"But I could go no further," she replied, "I was utterly spent. I should still be lost in the woods if you had not happened upon me." Alnein smiled.  
  
"Few beings can boast of your resolve, Nevariel, elf or mortal. Both of us are tied to that same fate. We must be stronger for being alone in the world, and you have proved your strength by living to see yet one more sunrise. It is easy to lay back and give up, but to struggle on, and never capitulate is true courage."  
  
Lisaine walked slowly to the edge of her bed and slowly sat down.  
  
"You are wrong," Lisaine said slowly, "It takes no bravery to turn and run. Only true valor will stand and fight in the face of utter ruin. I left my father. I left my uncle. I left my people to be annihilated. I am not so worthy of your praise, Alnein. Many with courage greater than mine are lost this day to me."  
  
Lisaine leaned over and took her tiara and father's ring, still swathed in the strip of linen and held it in her trembling hands.  
  
"I should have no further need for these," she said at last, "I would keep them for my father's sake, but they mean little to me now." She stopped and sighed, "Lord Elrond suspects something. He knows that I have not said all to him. To his credit he does not press me for information, but he can tell there is more."  
  
Alnein came over and sat next to her on the bed.  
  
"You should tell him everything you know. There is a reason why your kingdom was attacked, Lisaine. You need not tell him who your father was, but you should tell him all you know about the attack. It may help in the defense of other cities or give him some insight of which he is not already aware."  
  
Lisaine stared at her perplexed, but Alnein's resolve showed plainly on her face. Lisaine looked away and shook her head, as if the memory were too much to bear.  
  
"Can you not see, Alnein? To them I am dead now...and that is where I might ultimately save myself. Irwindal is gone. There is nothing left for me. No one will come looking for me here, and no one here knows who I am, save for you."  
  
"If indeed your father was killed Nevariel, you are now a queen. And a queen does not abandon her people." Tears welled up in Lisaine's eyes again as she stared blankly at Alnein.  
  
"Are you sure there is no one left in the blue city?" the elf asked her. Lisaine shrugged her shoulders, sighing.  
  
"I do not know. It happened so fast. Alnein, they destroyed everything. I was sleeping in my room when the great horde approached. My handmaiden and I could hear the cries from the town. We heard the clash of steel, as the barricades of the castle were broken. She beseeched me to stay in my chambers, but I left and sought out my father, the king. I took my diadem and some of my jewelry with me, thinking the attackers came to rob, not to maim and kill. All was in panic and confusion as I ran through the hallways. I found him at last in his largest council chamber, as he prepared to repel the horde and protect his kingdom. His armor sparkled of silver and blue, and never did he appear to me nobler. I was proud to be his daughter, and begged him to let me join in the defense of the city. But he bade my uncle, Lord Hollein, to take me from the castle for safety. We left with three of his most trusted counselors, and two guards. I allowed my father to convince me to turn and run like a coward. Before we left, my father gave me his most prized possession, his royal signet ring. I took the ring and the coronet from my head and placed them into my waist satchel," Lisaine hesitated, pulling out the muddied ring from the cloth. On it was carved in gold, the royal seal of the house of Gillindon. She turned it over and over in her hands, before continuing.  
  
"He was never without it," Lisaine said stifling a sob, "We ran with all possible speed down the great stairwell of the North Tower, but all was blackness within, and the going was slow. Across the courtyards we hastened, and that is when I began to see them all. Our people lay slaughtered in the streets, stricken down where they stood. I wrenched a sword from a dead soldier, determined to return to the castle, but my uncle and a guard pulled me along, telling me it was hopeless. We were almost to the stables when they descended upon us. Two of my father's advisor's fought them and kept them at bay, while the rest of us ran past the fray and managed to mount some horses before more orcs came. With all speed we rode deep into the forest, with our people running everywhere. Alnein, they set fire to the underbrush on all sides, and those without steeds could not outrun the flames. My uncle led us to falls of Kareian, saying to us that the fire could not traverse the wide and fast moving river. That's when I first saw him..." her voice trailed off.  
  
"Saw who?" Alnein asked. Her face filled with dread.  
  
"The right hand of the Dark Lord, Rakal," Lisaine replied with a shudder. Alnein seemed taken aback. Lisaine saw her clutch the soft coverlet tightly in her fingers, but she said nothing, "I could hear his creatures calling his name in praise as he rode into our midst as a spider leaps upon its prey. My father's friend and advisor placed himself between Rakal and my own horse, raising his sword in defiance. The evilest of creatures, he aimed his arrow at him and killed him outright, laughing at him with an ugly, croaking laugh. I raised my sword in a shaking hand and cried out,  
  
"You must work harder than that to take me, evil one! I am princess Lisaine, daughter of King Gillindon, and these are MY lands you plunder! Prepare to meet thy doom!"  
  
Then I saw his hideous red eyes glaring at me as my horse reared in terror. He stared at me with such hatred. There can be no description for it. Everywhere was confusion, and in the havoc my mount rode up on its hind legs and I lost all balance. I fell backwards into the torrent of water and was swept away. Downstream I managed to cling to the underside of a stone outcropping just before I was flung over the waterfalls. From beneath the rapids, I could see the dark one's underlings riding up and down the shoreline in the distance, but they could not see me. The smoke from the fires was stifling and all around us. There was little light in the sky that night, and I was well hidden. I did not leave the water, though it was so cold, I thought they could hear my body shake. The flames from the trees could be seen in all directions, leaping into the sky, lighting up the very night as though it were twilight. It seemed endless that I was trapped there, too afraid to pull myself out of the water, and my arms and legs were so numb that I wasn't sure I could. My mind was clouded. When I heard no more horses, I decided to at least make to the shoreline. I moved so slowly, so painfully slowly, as the current pulled and tugged at my clothes. I did not think I had the strength to leave the water, and I thought just to let myself go. To let the waterfalls finish what Rakal had started. But at last I emerged. And they had gone. As I looked out over the plains, I could see a great lighting of torches and cloud of dust rising into the air, and I heard the loathsome battle cries from the orc army. I did not retrace up the river, for I had no desire to see what had become of my uncle. I am sure he is dead, like my father. Instead I made my way down the perilous rock face, with the water howling all around me, and kept to the river's edge to avoid the insidious flames as it ate up the woodlands. I slept in the reeds by the river's edge that first day, to avoid being seen. That is when I first thought to come here. For six days I was on foot alone before I came by a horse that had escaped the ruins like me, and he bore me across the southern pass of Balsor, across the Misty Mountains towards the Angle, to the woods just north of Isodor. But the journey was too much for the beast, and he was injured of his shoulder from a knife wound. He gave out finally before we reached the fortress, and I began to walk again. But finally I could go no further, and collapsed. That is when you found me and brought me here."  
  
"Were you not going to Isodor first? It is closer than Rivendell," asked Alnein. Lisaine shook her head.  
  
"I have no personal acquaintance in Isodor, and it is said that the folk who live in those woods prefer the quiet solitude of the forest. Yet, had I reached that fair city, I might have sought help there first."  
  
Alnein contemplated all that Lisaine had told her, and stood up.  
  
"Come," said Alnein, "Once you have eaten and bathed you will be much improved."  
  
Lisaine clutched the intricately carved post of the bed and pulled herself to her feet. Hobbling over to a large, wooden chest, Lisaine opened it, revealing several clean swaths of linens. Kneeling down, she placed the small diadem and signet ring in the bottom of the chest, and placed the cloth over it. Alnein quickly stepped over to help her back to the bed. Sitting back on the soft coverlet, Lisaine looked at her bruised and battered arms and legs. There was no serious wound, but Lisaine at once understood why her limbs hurt as they did. Pouring the water from the urn into a large wooden bowl, Alnein brought it over to the bed. Slowly Lisaine dipped the swath of cloth into the water, wrung it out, and dabbed a particularly long scrape on her leg. Then gathering up the clean dress that still sat on the edge of the bed, Lisaine slipped it over her head, pulling out her long, brown hair.  
  
"I think I would rather bathe in the river," Lisaine decided.  
  
"You've not had enough of cold river water then," Alnein said, smiling wryly. For the first time, and small smile passed Lisaine's lips, and she stopped short of the doorway.  
  
"Of some rivers I have had my fill. But the healing waters of the Bruinen will help my wounds perhaps. The sounds of the falls are soothing to my ears. Besides, there is not enough water in ten such urns to clean all of me properly." Smiling, the elf gathered up some clean, dry clothes from the chest, and after closing the heavy lid, handed them to the princess.  
  
"Here then, you'll need these," she said, "Are you sure you are alright?"  
  
"I will be alright," Lisaine said and turned once more to walk out the door. Then she stopped again, looking back at the elf, standing in the center of the room. The elf seemed to emanate a soft pale light about her head, even as the morning sun poured through the windows.  
  
"I will not return soon, Alnein. When I am presentable, I must have a talk with Lord Elrond."  
  
With that, Lisaine turned and limped through the doorway. 


	3. Lisaine meets Legolas in the Gorge

Lisaine remained content to linger in Rivendell. As the weeks passed, hope for news of her father waned. The princess's thoughts turned more and more at remaining in Rivendell, as she had longed to do as a child. She took on as much an appearance of elf as she could. At first, even though she was welcomed, she could feel all eyes upon her. This was not unlike when she lived in Irwindal. All eyes were upon her then too, though due to her ranking in the royal household. In Rivendell, Lisaine felt herself a stranger amongst friends. Forsaking her silken robes for the earthy toned browns of the Rivendell elves, she slowly transformed herself. Her golden, jeweled diadem and her father's signet ring were carefully packed away in favor of the richly carved wooden barrettes and combs of her hosts. Of these, Lisaine liked best a comb with colored stones and metal scrollwork in an array of never-ending circlets. This comb was given her by the elf- maiden Alnein, who was also displaced from her forest home in the North territory and come to live at Rivendell. Lisaine wore her long hair loosely, save for those occasions when she ventured out of her chambers. Then she preferred the combs given her, and tied her hair as precisely as she could to look like the other elf maidens around her.  
  
Lisaine, when she walked, carried herself as one to her station, as a princess, with grace and poise. Always was she aware of her shortcomings - being mortal in the presence of immortals - and this was an eternal bane to her. To Lisaine, the elves were not only savior to her life, but she likened them to wonder and beauty, and held them in fascination of their wisdom and skill. So to her poise and grace, she added her full attention to every detail, and when she walked the woods at the sun setting, Lisaine often practiced walking toe-to-heel to seem more graceful. And so skilled was she in her endeavors, she became virtually undetectable as she walked among the elves, and she enjoyed anonymity. Each afternoon when she walked, she would practice throwing her dagger in the forest when she thought no one was looking. It seemed to her this was an exercise unbecoming of a princess, yet a necessary one. The elves, ancient in war and high in skill with their weapons, needed no such training. But Lisaine had no desire to advertise her lack of skill, and thus sought to improve herself in secret.  
  
Lisaine opened her eyes, and breathed in the sweet misty air. As she sat up she could see the first bright rays of the morning sun glimmering through the tree branches outside her window. She pushed back her thick covers and left her cushioned bed, walking slowly over to the terrace to obtain more than a mere glimpse of the sun as it rose over the city. She loved the early morning best, because of the fresh, crisp air and the laziness of just awakening and the anticipation of a new day. There was a small breeze that jumped forth at her face, then stopped, then began, blowing her long hair away from her face, then letting it settle again, then back again. Lisaine smiled and closed her eyes listening to the tree branches gently rocking above her. The sounds of many voices in the courtyard below her window startled her, as if from a dream, and she opened her eyes and looked on with curiosity. Several horsemen had arrived at a gallop, all bearing swords and bows, and were gathered in a huddle and greeting one another with hearty hand clasps. Lisaine strained to hear what was being said, but her hearing was not as acute as her elvish counterparts, and they often whispered in their conversations, being perfectly able to understand one another talking gently even from a distance. One tallish elf came walking up to the company, and Lisaine thought how interesting he was, only then realizing that he was not of Rivendell by the way his hair was tied at the sides and in back of his head. He looked stern and solemn, and greeted everyone with a subdued gladness. He spoke louder than the others, and Lisaine could discern some conversation, although her elvish was still a little rudimentary, even now.  
  
"As far as Euphratas is taken, but we did not tarry. We journeyed here when we discovered the orc army of Rakal means to take Isodor. I must speak with Lord Elrond at once. Legolas has lingered in the gorge below to allow Neonean a long-promised drink. He will come in awhile."  
  
Lisaine breathed a heavy sigh and shut her eyes again.  
  
"Lisaine, what are you doing?"  
  
Spinning around in surprise, Lisaine saw Alnein standing directly in back of her, with a look of curious anticipation on her face. She was dressed in brown, her frock shimmering in the morning sun. Lisaine thought of how perfectly beautiful she always looked, even early in the morning.  
  
"I was thinking of my home," she said at last. Then pointing to Kerrinais below, she said, "That one there was just speaking of Euphratas. That kingdom was but a few days journey from Irwindal, and a greater army of more valiant men there never existed. My father was a great friend of the king, and he was dear to me as my own father. Now I fear they are both dead."  
  
Alnein walked up to Lisaine and put her hand on Lisaine's shoulder.  
  
"I heard the city was taken by emissaries of the Dark Lord. I thought not to trouble you with such news, as I did not know you were so close to that house. I am sorry for your losses. More and more of our Kindred are arriving here daily. It worries me that there is not some new mischief we must fret over. But surely you are not concerned with those things that you cannot change. You have not sought help to retake your kingdom, and you might live as an elf now, in the safety of Imladris." Lisaine turned again to look down at the company.  
  
"No," she said at last, "It does not concern me. Besides, there is nothing left there for me. My family is gone, my house is broken, and those who were not slaughtered in the attack, if there are any left, are hopelessly scattered about the countryside. I only miss my father." And after another long moment Lisaine continued,  
  
"I find it amazing that it has taken so long for the elves to notice that other kingdoms are being plundered. But then, my father's house was small...of no real consequence to anyone." She faltered again before continuing,  
  
"Alnein, how is it when the wolf howls on the other side of the wood, no one takes notice? But when the wolf howls at your door, you jump to your feet with great fear and concern...but not for that which he has already devoured."  
  
Alnein put her hand on Lisaine's shoulder again, and the two friends stood watching the gathering until they had begun walking up the long, stone stairway to Lord Elrond's house. When the last was gone from the square, Alnein left Lisaine in her room.  
  
Lisaine sat down on the edge of her bed, staring blankly out into the sky, brooding. Her mood had changed with the arrival of the strangers, and she thought to seek out the tall, grim elf to attempt some additional information from him. But it seemed unwise to interrupt his parley with Lord Elrond or simply to walk up to him to ask questions of a stranger. Perhaps, Lisaine thought, she could be introduced somehow. She sat contemplating these thoughts for some while, when she detected the faint footfalls outside her door again. She turned to find Alnein walking into the room.  
  
"You're still here," Alnein said in surprise, "I thought you had left. I looked for you in the great hall and on the trail leading to the woods. Are you sure you are all right? You look pale." Alnein walked to Lisaine and put her hand on her cheek. Lisaine smiled and stood up. She felt stiffness in her legs from sitting so long without moving, and wondered what time of day it was.  
  
"Quite alright," she replied, "I have only stayed indoors too long this morning."  
  
"I am going to help prepare an afternoon meal for the new arrivals. There are elves come from the great Woodland realm to the northeast and from Lothlórien. I thought perhaps you would join me. It may take your mind from your father for awhile."  
  
"I think not," Lisaine told her walking over to her gown that hung from a small wooden hook that protruded from the wall. Lisaine pulled off her long, flowing nightshirt and began to dress. Although Lisaine had dressed in front of Alnein many times, she always felt some awkwardness about it, as though she was laying bare all her mortal inequities. But these were only imagined. In truth, Lisaine's skin was as alabaster as Alnein's. Her stature was only slightly shorter, and perhaps more well rounded than Alnein's. Otherwise the two were very similar in look, hair, and all manners of beauty.  
  
"I will go to the gorge today," Lisaine spoke with a new determination in her voice, "There is a small rabbit that I am trying to befriend. I almost have him where I can lay a gentle hand on him. Perhaps he was abandoned. I am trying to see what good I can do for him. It is late in the morning, but I think I may see him yet."  
  
After securing her dress from behind, Lisaine went directly to a small wooden basin that contained some small, wild carrots and crunchy apples. She picked up some carrot shoots, then plucked the two ripest pieces of the red fruit and dropped them into a green pouch, and tied it around her waist. She also picked up a thin, silver dagger from the table. This Lisaine fitted into her belt. The forest surrounding Rivendell was host to many plants and herbs, and flowering ferns, and green cool mosses. Lisaine often walked in the forest in search of seeds or fruit that she could use to strike up a friendship with a passing bird or other animal. On one such journey, she caught site of something that she had not seen since the days that she ambled carefree in the small woods of Irwindal. A large, knarled tree, bearing the sweet, juicy red fruit which she now held at her waist. It was as if finding a treasure that was long lost, and she sparingly picked the fruit only for special occasions. Lisaine collected the barren sticks of apple wood and used them on cooler nights to warm her room. On these nights the fruity scent permeated her clothes and her hair as though it were perfume, and the sweet odor reminded her of the roaring fires of the same wood in her father's vast council room, where she would sit and play quietly while he would hold serious debates or other councils.  
  
"I will meet with you later then," said Alnein as Lisaine swept past her. Lisaine turned at the door and smiled before pivoting gracefully on her feet and leaving. As she made her way down the slope past the waterfall, Lisaine felt a sense of relief. She really hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, and she was hoping that Alnein could understand her refusal to help prepare quarters for the "newcomers". Thinking about her father had left her feeling depressed. Rivendell seldom entertained new guests, and Lisaine supposed that the visit must be of some weighty importance, and undoubtedly the exacting rituals and protocol that would be adhered to during that first supper would be intolerable for her this day. She was not entirely sure that her presence would not be frowned upon either. Most of the meals were served by elf-maidens alone. Yet, she had never been shut out of such dinners with strangers before. She entertained thoughts that justified her excuse, and thought of what to say should her presence be missed. Lisaine made her way down the trail, next to the stream, stepping carefully over rounded mossy stones. Looking for the best route to cross, she lifted her dress and waded into the knee-deep water around the rocks and crags and went further down to her favorite spot. The cliffs on either side of the river jutted vertically 100 feet, and the only way to get there was to walk directly in the water. The sun was high above her head now, and its rays warmed the slate bedrock and that in turn, warmed the water where she now stepped. The very edges of the river were lined with lush greenery, and the rocky cliffs tapered off until the whole stream had widened, and its banks opened up to the outskirts of the forest.  
  
Here she sat down beneath a large tree, whose roots grasped at the soil to all directions. She settled down between the two largest roots and laid her head against the massive tree-trunk, gazing into the blue sky beyond the extensive branches that hung down as if burdened by the weight of a great snow. The leaves glowed with all colors of green in the sunshine, but now had lost their morning dew, and Lisaine chided herself that she had waited so long to come that day. She enjoyed the early morning smell of fresh air, and the droplets of water on the leaves would shimmer and sprinkle everything around her with light. She sat up abruptly at hearing a small rustle in back of her. Thinking her small rabbit had appeared, she hurriedly untied her satchel from her waist and pulled out two small carrots. However, it was not the rabbit, but only a gust of breeze, come down from the mountain to jostle a young flowering bush beside the tree. Still, she wasn't sure, and she leaned over, stretching her arm to leave the tender carrots beneath the bush. For a few minutes Lisaine stay perfectly still, scrutinizing the bush's every movement in hopes of seeing the baby, but it did not appear. Disappointed, she sat back, closed her eyes and began singing softly to herself.  
  
Lisaine dozed awhile in the warm afternoon sun before the soft wetness of something nuzzled the side of her face, pushing her over. The princess opened her eyes, and scrambled over the tree roots in fear. The startled girl looked back to see four sturdy, gray hoofs straddling where she had been sleeping. She looked at the huge horse with wonder. Its mane was long past its shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with a fiery blue that Lisaine had never seen the like of before. Neonean towered above her, even when grazing, and she was heavy enough that her hooves sank slightly into the soft embankment of the stream. The horse had found her carrots by the bush, and was munching on them unconcerned of Lisaine's presence.  
  
"You must have wandered down the trail in search of an afternoon meal," Lisaine said rising slowly, "Would you like one of these?" Lisaine reached in her satchel and produced one of the ripe apples. As she held it in her hand, Neonean's held shot up and the horse looked at her, but did not move as if it were unsure about taking it.  
  
"Try it," Lisaine smiled, "They're wonderful. I eat them myself."  
  
Lisaine took a small bite, and the crunch made Neonean's ears perk up towards her. She held the fruit outwards again. The horse backed itself up slightly, as if it had finally decided to try the offering, and took two small steps forwards. Lisaine did not move, and Neonean strained her lips forwards to take the fruit. Neonean's eyes grew wide as she crunched into the juicy fruit, and the horse walked up and pushed Lisaine, who laughed. The horse sniffed at the satchel that hung at Lisaine's waist, and nudged her expectantly.  
  
"I have only one more," Lisaine said still brushing her muzzle with her fingers. The horse nudged her again, harder, throwing Lisaine off her balance. She staggered back two steps, and laughed.  
  
"Now. Now. We'll have none of that. I would leave this last one for my pet rabbit, since you've seen fit to eat his lunch for him. But I don't suppose you'd just let me leave it on the ground, would you?" Lisaine looked into the horse's eyes. The horse shook its great head, as though to reply, her mane falling in sweeps around her sparkling eyes. Lisaine was pensive for a moment.  
  
"Very well, you can have the last one when we get back up the hillside," she said at last starting away up the embankment to the forest, "We should find your master. We'll take the road. It will be easier for you than traveling up through the falls again." Neonean stood where she was, watching Lisaine make her way up the embankment. As an inducement, the princess turned around and took the remaining fruit from its pouch, holding it up. The horse's eyes grew wide again. Shaking her great head, the horse limped towards her. Lisaine instantly looked downward to the horse's hooves, frowning.  
  
"What's wrong with your leg, my friend. Is your hoof bothering you? Let me see." Lisaine stepped back down to the embankment, replacing the fruit to the satchel and bent low to examine the horse's legs. Satisfied that her legs were sound, Lisaine turned herself towards the back of the horse, bending her knees slightly, the princess squatted as she slowly lifted the horse's great leg onto her bended knee. Neonean whinnied in disapproval, but did not jerk away.  
  
"Steady now, " Lisaine whispered tossing her hair to one side, "I think you've picked up a stone in your hoof." Without moving her body, Lisaine reached to her belt and pulled out the silver dagger. Gently, Lisaine worked the knife until the sharp stone popped out.  
  
"There. You'll feel better now," she said soothingly. Putting down the mare's hoof, Lisaine began to stand up when she heard someone behind her whistle and say,  
  
"Come Neonean!"  
  
Lisaine turned her head and stood up abruptly. There, across the water she saw a tall elf, with long flaxen hair, tied in the same manner as the grim looking elf she had that morning from her terrace. His quiver of arrows and bow still fixed to his back. He wore a long green suede tunic and elegantly scrolled leather vambraces on his arms. He balanced perfectly upon a slippery, moss-covered rock in the middle of the stream, and the sun's rays, which were now beginning to fade into late afternoon, shown all about his head in a perfect halo. The water reflected a hundred rays of sun, and a rainbow of color seemed to dance all around him, as one looking into a precious gem under a radiant light. Lisaine let out a small gasp under her breath, trying not to be overt at her reaction, but she felt that she had truly never seen an elf more fair or noble than this. His eyes sparkled blue, like the horse, but he neither smiled nor spoke. He only looked at Lisaine as though he were trying to make out whom she was, and why she was there. The great mare looked over at her master, though her mind was still focused on the fruit in Lisaine's satchel. Neonean was 20 times Lisaine's weight, and was more powerful than most other horses her own size. With a sudden jerk of her head, the horse nudged the girl forcefully once more. Lisaine was caught off guard again, and tumbled backwards over the tree stump into a small clump of bushes. She picked herself up quickly, half expecting the elf to be laughing at his mischievous friend, but instead he just stared at her clumsiness with disdain. Lisaine brushed herself off, becoming vaguely aware that her dress was muddied, and her hair was tangled. Seldom did Lisaine feel embarrassed, but as the awkward silence grew, her stomach began to twinge uncomfortably. Finally, Lisaine gathered her strength, and spoke to the stranger.  
  
"I am Nevariel, is this your steed?"  
  
The elf's demeanor eased a bit at hearing her voice. He looked somewhat surprised that she had an elven name. At last he answered,  
  
"Yes. She travels with me."  
  
"Are you one of the newcomers to Rivendell then?" Lisaine said, now recovering from her embarrassment, "For I am sure I have not seen you here before."  
  
"I am Legolas from Mirkwood," he answered politely, but Lisaine could still see the mild contempt on his face. Legolas fixed his attentions at the gray mare, and he called to her. The horse turned and ambled away through the water, until it reached its master. To the horse, his demeanor changed. His expression softened as gave the horse a pat on its muzzle. Without further discourse, the elf turned to walk away, up the steep slope. Lisaine watched Legolas and the mare make their way through the stream with almost no effort. Thinking to advise the stranger in favor of the main road, Lisaine decided against delaying him further. He seemed in a hurry to return to the city, and she suddenly felt coarse and unrefined. She looked on until the elf and his steed were out of sight. Lisaine stood at the base of the great tree, unmoving until the sun began to sink in the sky, and the first shades of pink and purple covered the vast blueness overhead. Then, thinking it was getting late in the day, she turned and made her way through the woods to the road. 


	4. The Council of Isodor

Lisaine slowly made her way through the forest to the road leading to Rivendell. As she hopped across a small craggy ravine, her consuming thoughts were of the elf, Legolas. Her mind would not be freed of his fair visage, and Lisaine thought how she might meet with him again. Pulling herself up by a low lying tree branch, the straight road lay before her, and she was grateful for being away from the many obstacles of the forest.  
  
"I must have missed the right trail," she thought to herself, "This is taking too long. The dark of night will be here in but a short while, and I must yet walk awhile to return."  
  
The cold of the autumn evening was beginning to bite, and she shivered as she walked alone on the road. Lisaine suddenly stopped, and stood motionless for a moment. The possibility of other strangers arriving by way of the road caused her to consider backtracking. She was disheveled and tired, and she had no desire to display herself as she did with Legolas to anyone else. But there was no time to take an alternate route. The blackness of night would soon be upon her, and she had no lamp to guide her on her way, only the nearly full moon, shrouded in cloud cover. She would have to take the road, despite whomever she might encounter. She looked at her dress and hands, which were caked with mud and dirt. After brushing off her hands, she combed her fingers through her hair, and pulled out a small twig that had caught itself in a tangle at the end of one long braid. Lisaine sighed once more, dropping it to the ground. She quickly pulled her hair back into a ponytail, leaving a small strand of hair at the base. Then bringing up the remaining bit, she wrapped it around the main part of her hair, circling it tightly several times, before tying the small bit in a knot. In this manner, Lisaine's long hair was pulled away from her face, and she felt somewhat refreshed. Then she started out once more, and made her way back up the road in the growing darkness, back to Rivendell.  
  
Kerrinais blinked his eyes and realized that it was already mid-morning. He had slept some hours, but he was not sure how long. Looking over to his right, he saw the bed where Legolas was resting, but he too, was awake.  
  
"When do you suppose the council will meet?" Kerrinais asked sitting up. He fitted his green tunic over his head, and pulled his arms through, over his elven shirt. Standing up, he reached over for his long elven boots, with richly stitched ancient symbols. He actually had two pairs of boots, but Kerrinais always wore these particular boots on long journeys, because he felt more comfortable in them.  
  
"I am not sure," Legolas replied, "If there were time, I would ride back to Mirkwood to inform my father of all these grave tidings. If Isodor should be Rakal's next conquest, then it would seem he means to take Rivendell by force afterwards. It makes sense, though I am not sure that he realizes the foolhardiness of the attempt. Still, I would feel better with our kindred from the North to support our defense. I would find Gandalf and have a word with him. I heard last evening that he has arrived, and will be with us at the council. It worries me that he is even here. He never appears except when greater peril is at hand."  
  
"If there are indeed two more orc armies behind Rakal, they might make a good attempt, but they are all cowardly. In the face of the combined forces of Rivendell, they may turn. More elves are arriving daily. Some have already come bearing the mark of the peacock. It would seem that many know of the coming threat. "  
  
"Lothlórien?" Legolas sat up, obviously surprised. "How could they know of the extent to which we need their alliance now? Lest the Lady of the Wood has foreseen it and sent help without the request."  
  
"While you tarried in the gorge last evening, I spoke with a longtime friend who abides here now. And she said to me of some earlier arrivals who came at great speed and urgency, who bore the elven brooch of Lothlórien. The lady sees all, and is wise beyond measure. These elves may be at the council this day, and then we will know the total of our forces and the best manner in which to deal with Rakal."  
  
Legolas stared blankly out the terrace of their room to the beautiful pristine architecture of ancient buildings across the dell, and almost against his will he began to think of earlier years riding horses with Illdinar carefree through the golden fields, barely beyond the forest glades of Mirkwood. An anger that he had seldom felt in all his long years began to well up deep inside of him.  
  
"I know the best manner in which to deal with Rakal," he said under his breath.  
  
At high noon, Legolas and Kerrinais left their chamber and walked towards the center square of Rivendell. As they approached the great stairway to the pavilion, Legolas paused briefly, looking back to the stable area.  
  
"I should see to Neonean," he said, "She should be set loose this morning to graze as she may in the woods. I stabled her last evening after she wandered down into the gorge."  
  
Kerrinais continued a few feet up the stone stairway, stopped and turned towards Legolas.  
  
"Let us eat first Legolas. There will be time to set Neonean to the glades after. I must speak with Nillaithion before the council begins, and he may be in the pavilion. You may set Neonean loose after the meal." Legolas pondered this for a moment, and started up the stairs, following Kerrinais to the landing. Here they crossed an intricately carved stone archway that led further into a covered pavilion area. From the opposite end of the pavilion, began another stairway. Servant maidens were quickly entering the landing from this other entrance, carrying trays of food and water for the noon meal. Kerrinais walked directly to a tall, dark-haired elf, sitting on the stone. An elf maiden hurriedly poured water from a silver pitcher into a small goblet, as he held it up to her. He turned and saw Kerrinais, who greeted him with a great smile, and the tall elf sat down beside him. The two began to speak in elvish, in subdued flowing voices. Legolas surveyed the small area, thinking where he could sit. Stepping over a wooden plate, laden with freshly picked fruits and berries, he settled himself between Kerrinais and Athonan, an elf of Rivendell, and reached for a plate of dried meat. Biting into the long, thin strip, Legolas gazed upward and saw the small figure of Lisaine approach them. She bore a water pitcher and several empty goblets on a small wooden tray. She came to Legolas first, kneeling meekly before him. Placing the tray onto the stone, she began pouring a cup of water.  
  
"A drink for you, my lord," she said politely. But as Legolas watched her, he felt troubled, as though a great tumult of thought was flying through her mind. He felt almost confused in her presence. Her long auburn hair was tied with a single, small braid on either side of her temple, and pulled back. The braids secured with a sparkling shell barrette. Kerrinais merely turned and grasped a goblet from her hand, and continued his conversation with Nillaithion, unphased. She held up a goblet to Legolas, staring directly into his bright blue eyes. He did not take the goblet, but instead simply stared back at her. Another awkward silence ensued between the two, even though all those surrounding them were busily conversing. At last, she nervously placed the goblet on the stone floor before him, and began pouring another drink for the elf sitting to the left of Legolas.  
  
"Your horse is well recovered from her adventure in the gorge yesterday, my lord?" Lisaine said matter-of-factly. He sat silent for another moment before answering her.  
  
"You are not worrying of my horse," he said finally. Lisaine's glance shot up at him as she was placing the third goblet down, her eyes widened. She stared at Legolas in wonderment, not knowing how to reply. Regaining her composure, she grasped the edge of the tray and stood up before him.  
  
"You will find your drink most pleasant, my lord. The water is fresh and clean to those who journey to us from the dry, far lands in the East," she said. Bowing her head slightly, she turned and walked quickly across the pavilion towards the serving area. Legolas's eyes followed her until she disappeared down the stairway.  
  
Quickly descending the steps, Lisaine walked directly to a large wooden table. Several trays were already on it, some empty, some filled with bowls of fruits or meats, some with pitchers of water. There were two maidens bustling about the table, sprinkling herbs at the last moment upon the meats, or breaking lembas loaves into smaller, more manageable pieces. Here Lisaine placed her tray with the now empty water pitcher. She proceeded to the doorway that led to an open hallway, which in turn, led to the square. No maiden was imposed upon to serve where they had no wish to, and therefore her leaving was not considered unusual. But Alnein, who was only now returning to the table with a large bowl of freshly picked berries, saw Lisaine hurrying away. The elf had intended to converse with her friend, but Lisaine's nervous countenance was oddly conspicuous, and she thought not to detain the princess. Alnein walked silently to the door and watched Lisaine hurry away, almost running. Then Alnein looked back in the direction of the pavilion, half wondering if someone had said something to upset her friend. Her eyes fell upon each elf, until her gaze came to rest upon the serious Legolas. Meanwhile, Lisaine continued to the square and did not stop until she was almost at the great hewn archway that heralded the entrance to the city of Rivendell. There, finally, she paused, turning her head back in the direction of the pavilion. She could see the maidens still bustling back and forth as the meal continued, and then with her head hung low, she continued towards the forest.  
  
Alnein brought the bowl of berries to the pavilion, and began to pour a small amount on each plate. As she approached Kerrinais, he glanced over at her and a huge smile came to his face. Bowing his head, he placed his arm across his chest and extended it outwards towards her. Alnein broke into a subdued grin, and bowed her head in turn, pouring some berries on Legolas's plate, and then Kerrinais's.  
  
"I am glad you are here," she said to Kerrinais, "It has been too long since I have had the pleasure of seeing my Mirkwood kin. How fairs our mother?"  
  
"She is well," he grinned, "I wish only that our presence here were under gladder tidings. I have not the time to visit now, as Legolas and I are wanted in council shortly, but perhaps in the evening I may seek you out and you can tell me how goes it here in the water city of Rivendell."  
  
Alnein looked shyly at Legolas, who took no notice of her. He was busy speaking to another woodland elf who had also traveled to Rivendell from afar, though not from Mirkwood.  
  
"Fair thee well, my brother," Alnein smiled, "Until the dusk then." Kerrinais bowed his head one more time, and she passed by him, pouring berries onto yet another plate.  
  
After the meal, Legolas and Kerrinais ascended another long stairway from the pavilion. At the top, there was an open-arched walkway, leading to yet more steps. Ivy and flowers clung to the ancient carved stones. The rambling vines and stones were wet with dew and mist, even as the sun rose above them. As they climbed, Kerrinais looked out past the arches, to the many waterfalls that surrounded the city of Rivendell. Trees brimming with colored leaves shone in the bright afternoon sunlight. The morning mists had dissipated, but the constant mists from the crashing falls were always in motion around the gorge area. The upsweep of the air drafts from the water fell on their faces with crisp, clean air mixed with tiny water droplets. Even though Rivendell was entering the fall season, flowers blooming year round added purples and blues to the spectacular sight. At the very top of the stairway, the entrance to the home of Lord Elrond, Kerrinais stopped momentarily to take in the marvelous sight of Rivendell, bathed in magnificent colors.  
  
From this perch, Legolas and Kerrinais could see most of the city and the gorge beneath. As Legolas looked over the beautiful landscape in its entirety, his elven eyes perceived a solitary young woman at the water's edge, in the gorge below. At first, she was hidden from his sight by the massive branches of an ancient oak tree, but she stepped carefully to her left, and then came directly into his view. Squinting his eyes slightly, he gazed at her relaxed demeanor as she knelt down, holding something within her outstretched hand. Legolas stood there watching, and then to his surprise, he saw a small baby rabbit hop cautiously from underneath a bush. The young woman remained perfectly still as the rabbit came closer and closer, until at last, it took a tentative bite of her offering. There she remained for some minutes while the tiny rabbit munched happily on the bit of food. Then, satisfied, the rabbit hopped back to the safety of the bush, and the maiden placed the rest of its lunch by the bush. She stood up, brushing her brown and gray gown with a tiny hand and continued her way down into the gorge, singing.  
  
He could not understand the words of her serenade over the crashing of the great falls, but the melody, light and gay, was clear to his ears. Legolas's lips gradually curled upwards into a slight smile as she escaped his sight. Kerrinais motioned to Legolas and continued into the entranceway to Lord Elrond's house. Legolas glanced in the direction of the gorge one last time before he followed.  
  
Several high council members had already assembled when Legolas and Kerrinais arrived. Lord Elrond sat upon a large, high-backed wooden chair to the right of the doorway, and each walked over to him, bowing in respect, before taking their seats in the great circle. The sun was high now, and it filtered through the vast treetops onto the ground all around them. The breeze was stronger at the top of the ridge and leaves blew carelessly onto the landing. Legolas's long hair moved in the chilly autumn breeze, but he showed no signs of being cold. Next to Kerrinais sat lords Balanthos and Menarn of the great city of Isodor. Beside them were Hanthenar and Dalidanor of the far kingdom of Lothlórien. Also there were Luinerothion, Kostranion, and Marsangaion of Rivendell, the trusted lords of Elrond. They sat conversing quietly, when the eleventh and final member called to the council arrived. Kerrinais turned his head, observing the tall man's gray weathered robes and knurled staff. For this visitor, Lord Elrond rose to his feet and extended his hand in greeting. The man removed his hat and shuffled to the one remaining empty seat, nodding to each assembled elf as he passed by. Lord Elrond remained standing until everyone was seated, then he proceeded to the center of the circle. His expression was of solemn gravity.  
  
"You are here because a new menace comes to our borders," he said sternly, "Rakal the Destroyer comes to overthrow the elven cities of Isodor and Rivendell. As we speak, his unfettered army approaches the forest of Isodor from the east. Therefore I have assembled you to come together to discuss our defenses of the cities and how to repel this invader."  
  
A slow murmur of garbled, astonished disbelief rose over the room at the mere mention of Rakal's name. Balanthos rose from his seat, looking about the assembly.  
  
"We are from the mellow woodlands of Isodor. There has been no word or tidings that an army comes hither, especially the Dark Lord's evilest minion, whom to all of us is but a rumor. There is no proof that Rakal even exists, and surely we would have some knowledge of his approach from the outreaches of the mountains."  
  
Kerrinais stood up.  
  
"There are those who have seen him first hand and lived to tell of it. Three of us traveled from great Mirkwood at the request of King Thranduil nigh on one full moon ago. We traversed all the area in the great valley between the mountains and the great forest. ALL the cities along mighty Anduin lie in waste from Rakal's army. We arrived in Euphratas even as the city was overthrown, and saw Rakal astride his black horse, come from the wastelands. He bears the mark of the red arrow, and we have seen his work firsthand. Our companion was lost in the battle at Euphratas, and only by stealth did we escape ourselves."  
  
Balanthos stared at Kerrinais in disbelief, and slowly took his seat.  
  
"Rakal is no rumor," said Gandalf. All attention turned to him. "Rakal relies on concealment rather than speed. He leaves no witness to his deeds, and therefore believes he has time to move his army where he will. To attack without the fear of previous discovery is his ambition. He does not fret of meeting with great defenses. His glory is in his arrogance, and this is where we must look to his undoing. Obviously he believes Legolas and Kerrinais to be dead or he would be moving quicker to his mark. But he has grown too confident in his conquests, and he will not be prepared for elven resistance in Isodor. He will be the one who is surprised."  
  
"How many approach Isodor?" asked Menarn to Kerrinais. The elf stood motionless, contemplating how to break the news of the massive army. Menarn looked then to Legolas.  
  
"The army is large," Legolas said gravely, "2,000 strong at least. With at least 700 horses counted among them, and well armored." All talking stopped, and there was a long silence as the elven generals pondered Legolas's words.  
  
"Rakal's army will be at Isodor in 10 days," said Lord Elrond looking about the room, "We must assemble what strength we may and confront them in Tamlot, the outlying woods of Isodor. At least there, his horses may not be of much use to him. They will find the thistles and ravines difficult to traverse, and we may use what power we have in the woods to confuse them."  
  
"You cannot hope for reinforcements from Lothlórien in that short a time!" said Dalidan jumping to his feet. He was visibly shaken. "It will be 15 days before our warriors can arrive, even at great speed!"  
  
Lord Elrond sighed as he gazed at the visitor.  
  
"Yet, 10 days is all we have before the storm ascends," said Lord Elrond. Then looking all about him, Elrond said in a commanding voice,  
  
"The future of Elvendom in Middle-Earth is in our hands. We are outnumbered as we stand today, but we MUST defend the city or each elven kingdom will suffer the same fate after. Rakal seeks to conquer ALL in his master's service, and he has set his sights upon Isodor. I have already dispatched riders to all areas calling for aid, but until help arrives, we here MUST hold them. Now, we have much preparation. I will meet with you individually to determine what areas you must command. Until then, make ready and I bid you, our most trusted elf lords, to attend the Nissalos feast this night. We go to war in two days time, and will meet Rakal in the woodlands of Tamlot."  
  
With that, the elves rose from their seats and began to file away, bowing low to Lord Elrond as they descended the stairs to the long, covered walkway. Gandalf arose last, and he shuffled over to Lord Elrond. The two turned back and retreated into Lord Elrond's main receiving room. There were no closed rooms in any elven home; such was the elves love for forest and nature. Every room then was open to the trees and flowers. Birds flew freely through the great hallways, their nests concealed within the climbing ivy that licked at every window and terrace. As the two friends walked, leaves crackled beneath their feet and the breezes blew through the rounded windows.  
  
"Gandalf," said Lord Elrond pensively, "I am concerned of this rash move of Rakal. He does nothing without the Dark Lord's command, yet I cannot foresee his purpose here. Why now? Why Isodor and Rivendell? We are the least defended, but we are the hardest to traverse here in the mountains." Gandalf paused to reflect on his words. He stepped closer to Elrond, whispering as though he believed the very walls could hear him.  
  
"I am not sure that all of Rakal's deeds here are sanctioned by his dark master. His pride should not be underestimated, Lord Elrond. He has grown too confident in his conquests, and I sense that he wants a complete triumph over something, but I don't know what. His moves until now were to wipe out the mortal cities in the Anduin valley, but his coming here so soon makes little sense. He is after something here besides obliteration of the elves, but I cannot tell you what it is."  
  
Lord Elrond looked to his hand and held it up. Upon his finger sat, Vilya, the Ring of Air, handed down to him by Gil-galad. Its ocean-blue sapphire sparkled brightly.  
  
"It could be he has come for this," he said, "If Rakal can defeat all of the elven kingdoms, then the Dark Lord could assemble the three elven rings. With half of the mortal race gone in the Anduin valley, and dominion over all the forests, the Dark Lord could easily crush what remains in Gondor and Rohan. Even now, Gondor stands guard over the closed and silent black gates, unaware that Rakal is laying waste to all the lands of the Northern territories. When Rakal returns to his master in Mordor, it will be too late for Gondor to mount a defense on all sides."  
  
"The Dark Lord hopes to conquer Middle-Earth without the one thing that he needs for a swift victory. If Rakal can take half the elven kingdoms, then matters will be worsened tenfold," whispered Gandalf. He began to walk further into the reaches of the spacious chamber. Lord Elrond remained stationary.  
  
"Gandalf, there is one more thing."  
  
Gandalf turned, half surprised.  
  
"There has come to us a survivor from Irwindal," he said. Gandalf raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes," continued Lord Elrond, "She has visited us many times in the past, but she has escaped from Irwindal during the night of the attack. And it brings me to hope that if she has survived, perhaps there are others. Perhaps that is why Rakal hastens to Isodor. Perhaps he knows there are survivors there, and he would wish to wipe them out. I have spoken to this maiden twice, but I feel she does not want to relay everything to me. Perhaps you should talk to her. She may be able to tell us something that will help our efforts." Gandalf nodded.  
  
"Perhaps I will," he replied.  
  
Kerrinais and Legolas lingered in the armory for much of the afternoon, examining such weapons as there were on hand. To this end, there were many weapons of war kept in the elven armory. Even as Lord Elrond kept an ample supply of bows and knives against a sudden need, every elf was just as likely to carry their own personal weapons, which they preferred. A strange handle, or bow tension did not lend itself to more accuracy, and only at times of dire need would a woodland elf be caught with such armament. Still, in the advent of a crisis, the elven smiths labored at creating such bright long knives and arrowheads with beauteous scrolling as to be worthy of the noble race.  
  
Late in the afternoon, Legolas parted company with his companion and made for the stables to release Neonean. As he walked, he reproached himself, thinking that the great mare would be terribly annoyed with him for keeping her pent up throughout the morning. He climbed a small slope and entered the tall barn, covered in ivy but for the windows, which were clean of foliage. The moment he walked through the great open doorway, he could hear a faint laughter and then a melodious humming. The sound was soothing to him, and in his curiosity, Legolas quickened the pace to find its source. When he turned the corner, he stopped short. There he saw Lisaine standing at the stall entrance, singing softly to Neonean while feeding the mare a wild carrot. He scuffed his foot so that Lisaine would hear his approach, which she did. Her song stopped abruptly and she spun her head around. Even in the darker recesses of the barn, Lisaine imagined a golden hue shining about him. Legolas stopped 10 feet from the stall, unwilling to venture closer. Quickly she turned her eyes, so as not to stare at him. Legolas was obviously annoyed at her intrusion.  
  
"Surely this is the most beautiful animal I have ever seen," she said at last.  
  
"You should not stand so close to her," Legolas admonished, "This horse does not take kindly to strangers. What were you doing just now?"  
  
The princess did not back away from where she stood despite Legolas's remark. Looking back to the horse's serene face, Lisaine said,  
  
"A beast with a good heart will know when it is in good company, I think. I am sure she would do no harm to me, my lord. As for what I was doing, I was just talking to her, that is all."  
  
"Talking?" he replied in surprise.  
  
"Yes," Lisaine said amiably, "Do you suppose naught but an elf may talk to a horse?"  
  
"But you cannot understand her reply," he interjected.  
  
Her comments both confused and interested him. The elves talked to animals as though they were having a conversation with another elf. They whispered to an animal, and could understand its voice as a language. But to Legolas's knowledge, no other race contained that ability. Lisaine also knew this. She also knew that Legolas mistook her meaning. She simply spoke to animals sweetly and tenderly and knew that they enjoyed the sounds of her voice. To his comment then, Lisaine gazed wistfully at Neonean. No, she could not speak to the horse as he could. At length, she smiled at the elf.  
  
"I understand her perfectly," she said slyly, "She would have my last carrot."  
  
Legolas broke into a small, uncontained laugh, as he walked over to open Neonean's stall gate. He seemed more at ease now.  
  
"I believe you are right," he grinned as he pulled the gate open, "Great horses have great appetites, and this one more than most."  
  
The giant mare calmly walked out, nuzzled Legolas's neck, and turned her head towards Lisaine, who now stood at her flank. Lisaine lifted up her one remaining carrot to the horse. Neonean munched on it while Legolas patiently waited. Then Lisaine stepped back and watched the slim, tall elf walk from the stable with the gray mare obediently following. She waited some moments after they left before she stepped lightly to the barn door entrance. The mountain breezes were cool upon her face, and she silently scanned the area until her eyes caught site of Legolas just before he disappeared around the stone entryway in the square. He was leading Neonean down the main road to the pastures in the forest. Even after he was gone, it seemed to her that a faint golden glow hung in the air around the archway. Lisaine likened it to a sparkle of morning dew on the winding woodland ivy. She stood there engrossed in her pleasurable thoughts, smiling to herself without concern, when she was suddenly drawn back to the present. The princess abruptly gazed upwards to see Alnein standing at her room's terrace, intently watching the entire scenario. There was a blank expression resting upon the elf's face. Feeling embarrassed, Lisaine quickly left the barn and headed in the direction of the forge. She did not want to escape to the river, her favorite place, and risk Alnein watching her leave in the same direction as Legolas. From her balcony, Alnein watched Lisaine disappear into the forge and then she turned her head to the great archway where Legolas had drawn Neonean moments before. Alnein pulled herself away from the balcony and proceeded into her chamber, sighing. 


	5. A Dance of the Nissalos

Even before the end of the council, word was sent throughout Rivendell that there would be a Nissalos, or elven dance rite. Donparamwen, who was the ancient sister of Luinerothiel of the East, looked over and arranged feasts and ceremonies in Rivendell. Alnein walked quickly through the passageway from Donparamwen's apartments, having been called to be one of the eight maiden dancers for that evening. Lisaine was just returning from the streams where she had bathed, when she saw Alnein approach. In her arms Lisaine carried a small armload of apple wood meant for her friend's room. This she sometimes gave to Alnein on the chillier autumn nights. Although the elf was never really cold, she always accepted the gifts with gratitude. Lisaine greeted her, but Alnein looked troubled and seemed anxious.  
  
"What news," Lisaine asked, "Why do you look so graven?"  
  
Alnein shook her head, walking quickly along the path. Lisaine had to walk quickly to keep up with Alnein.  
  
"There is talk of war. I have heard the fair city of Isodor is coming under attack by minions of the Dark Lord. Never before have they dared journey so far as this." Alnein stopped short, and turned to look at Lisaine.  
  
"The city is naught but a few leagues from Rivendell, and there are many elves that live in the forests there. I fear for their safety."  
  
Lisaine, becoming concerned, studied Alnein's serious expression.  
  
"That is sad news indeed, my friend. But is it certain? Is Lord Elrond certain?" Alnein slowly nodded.  
  
"Yes," said Alnein, "I have been asked to participate in the Nissalos tonight. That can only mean one thing."  
  
"The elven rite of war," Lisaine said softly, "The Nissalos is a ceremony to honor the elven lords before they lead an army to war, is it not?" Alnein began to walk again, and she climbed the ancient stone stairway leading to her home. Lisaine followed, saying nothing more. The two maids entered Alnein's chambers and Alnein closed the door. Lisaine seemed puzzled by this. Alnein seldom closed her doors. Outside, the galloping of horses and voices could be heard, but neither paid attention to what was being said. Alnein walked over to the window and looked below. All was soon quiet again, and when their privacy was assured, she spoke again.  
  
"I do not know if a war is certain, but the gathering of great warriors, the Nissalos, and Mithrandir's arrival this morning. Yes. Yes. War is come to Imladris."  
  
Lisaine was surprised, almost startled.  
  
"Mithrandir!! Is Gandalf the Grey come to Rivendell then??"  
  
"Yes," Alnein replied, "You have heard of him, I can see it in your face."  
  
"He was friend to my father," Lisaine replied, "But it has been many years since we spoke. Alas, he will be grieved to know my father...." her voice trailed off.  
  
Alnein pitied Lisaine. For Lisaine's short years, the deep cut of her father's death was still fresh. The grievous loss of her home and kingdom was still stinging. Indeed, Lisaine could barely speak of her father without languishing despair in her voice. Alnein though, had never really known who her family was. She had come to Mirkwood at a young age and stayed with Morsangaien, mother to Kerrinais. Although Kerrinais spent most of his youth elsewhere, Alnein and he became inseparable over the passing years. Her thoughts drifted back to happier days when she and Kerrinais would go hunting in the woods. He taught her well in use of bow and sword, until she left Mirkwood at last to seek out her birthmother. Alnein's mother, it was rumored, dwelled in the woods near the edge of Isodor, but Alnein never found her. After years of failure, her quest took her then to Rivendell, where it was told a vast gathering of elves would someday depart, and many elves that were previously living in secret would then reappear.  
  
Alnein had always hoped to find her mother here, but time and dismay had taken their toll, and now Alnein had all but given up hope. Alnein often looked upon her friend as almost a younger version of herself, when she was vibrant and full of spirit. And she pitied Lisaine for her harsh loss, and the losses yet to come. Now to see Kerrinais in Rivendell was a bittersweet reunion. Kerrinais would be leaving soon, and these might be her last glimpses of him. Lisaine did not yet comprehend the reason for Legolas and Kerrinais's journey to Rivendell, only that they were there. But Alnein knew that the elves did nothing without purpose, and their journey foretold of some grimmer future for all of them. Alnein moved closer to Lisaine, who had turned away to gaze out the window.  
  
"Perhaps Mithrandir knows now," said Alnein, "But if you have not seen him, it may be he does not know you are here."  
  
"Perhaps..." Lisaine replied still looking out the window, "So it is not enough that the evil one's orcs have plundered all the fair cities of the Anduin? They must now destroy all that is good in the mountains as well?"  
  
"The elven army will halt Rakal and his destruction," said Alnein. Lisaine spun her head around and a deathly ashen pall had covered her face. She leaned against the stone window to support herself.  
  
"Rakal," Lisaine whispered shuddering, "Grievous is this news, Alnein. I fear for all the elves."  
  
"The strength and goodness of the elven warriors can conquer any of Sauron's creatures," Alnein said in a hushed whisper, as if afraid to speak the Dark Lord's name any louder. Lisaine came up close to the elf maiden and looked at her closely.  
  
"You have not yet seen Rakal's work firsthand Alnein, but I have. The strength and goodness of the elves will not protect them. It will not be enough. Alas, how can the elves prevail against such a foe?" Alnein seemed to quail at her words, but said nothing. The elf wandered across the room, and then stopped to gaze out her window next to Lisaine. The sun was setting and the gathering would begin soon. She felt an urgency to end their conversation and prepare, but delicacy was required. She could not simply ask the princess to leave.  
  
"I can see by your face you've not told me everything," Lisaine said slowly, "What is it?"  
  
"I fear to tell you," Alnein said sadly, "We, both of us have endured a great deal, and this war seems bent on parting us from those that we both cherish." Lisaine's eyes betrayed a sudden and great concern, and as she hurriedly came to where Alnein was standing, all manner of grievous thoughts springing to her mind. Did she mean that Alnein would be returning to Mirkwood and leave her alone in Rivendell? Lisaine shuddered.  
  
"What do you mean??" Lisaine said with an urgent, almost wild tone of voice.  
  
"I have found out that Legolas and Kerrinais are to be at the Nissalos this night. That can mean only one thing. They will be leaving to go fight Rakal at Isodor." Lisaine stepped backwards and slowly sat on the edge of Alnein's bed, sinking into the soft coverlet. The princess turned her head away, a small tear streamed down her cheek. She quickly brushed it aside, pretending as though she were brushing a lock of hair from her face. Lisaine had tried not to show her grief at the news, but it was too evident. Alnein sat beside her. For a few moments, the two said nothing. Lisaine struggled to control herself, refusing to look away from the wall. Alnein heaved a great sigh.  
  
"I know of your love for Legolas," Alnein said at last. Lisaine seemed surprised to hear it spoken openly, and she jerked her head around to gaze at the elf. At last Lisaine lowered her head, as if she was resigned to admit what she, herself, was fighting to conquer. In the royal house of Gillindon, she had been well taught to conceal her thoughts and feelings. But the elves could tell another's mind simply by looking into one's eyes, and there was no truth that could not be revealed if the onlooker wished it.  
  
"One never intends to love," Lisaine said painfully, her voice trailed off as if in a trance. At last she realized that Alnein was waiting for her to finish her sentence, a confused look growing on her face. Jogged back to the present, Lisaine continued,  
  
"Time and place mean nothing to it. You can live a lifetime happily without it, and then one day it stands before you and you cannot close your door to it. I had hoped to hide this one thing from the all-seeing elves. Something to keep to myself without such a revelation to others."  
  
"And you have done well," Alnein soothed, "None but I have seen it, for surely my brother Kerrinais would have said something to me, if indeed he knew. And I only see it because you wish me to see it. We know each other's secrets through our own pain and sacrifice. You can tell my mind without words, because we are akin to sisters. And that is a very elvish thing, Nevariel. I understand your feelings, for surely Legolas is the fairest of his kind in all of Mirkwood. But I caution you, my sister. He is a solemn being, ancient in his ways, and serious in all his endeavors. His heart is as a fresh snow upon the grasslands, pure and untouched, and he would keep it that way. He feels deeply for all things that touch his mind and he knows, as do all the elves, for one to break such a pure heart would mean his own destruction."  
  
Lisaine gazed at her and nodded sadly. She spoke now as if a weight had been lifted from her.  
  
"I have never seen his equal, Alnein. The first moment I set eyes on him, the sun seemed to set around his noble head, and the light shown about him in unparalleled glory. I was blinded by his very stare. At that moment I was his, and ever will be. I am not deluded in my mind regarding him. Never since fair Luthien gave her love to Beren has an elf sought to love a mortal. You have naught to fear except I should die of my own broken heart. Because now, I will never lay eyes on him again, ere he rides valiantly to an assailant against whom there is no victory." Lisaine began to cry again, unable to control her feelings. Alnein said nothing, but brushed Lisaine's hair with her slender fingers.  
  
"Fear not of your love, Nevariel. Have some peace. All of the elven folk are the greatest of warriors, deadly with bow and knife. Rakal will not step lightly into the magic woods unseen as he might wish. He will not come to destroy a place with naught but helpless mortal women and children as in the valley. I wish I might help thee, my sister. Would that I could heal your heart a little, I would. You have already seen too much grief with the loss of thy family, and even thy royal standing. Overwhelming is this news, but you would know it when the elf captains ride forth in but two days. It is better if you prepare yourself for his loss." Lisaine gazed at Alnein, and stood up, pacing the floor, wiping her reddened cheeks with the back of her hand.  
  
"I have not lost my royal standing, my friend," Lisaine said bending her head, "I am still a princess of Irwindal, even if I should be the last mortal to know it. You say you would help me heal my heart of Legolas, then help me now. Let me glimpse of him one last time ere he rides away forever. Let me take your place at the Nissalos this night." Alnein sat back a bit on the large bed. Her obvious surprise at the request should have been enough to inform Lisaine that it was not possible. Yet, Lisaine stood before Alnein, her eyes searching for some bit of compliance in her stare, but Alnein only returned disappointment.  
  
"You don't know what you ask," said Alnein at last, "The steps are exacting and Donparamwen has already made the choice. I cannot relinquish the task to another." Lisaine fell to her knees in front of Alnein and took the elf maiden's hands in hers.  
  
"I beseech you! I know the dance well. Have I not attended the elves as a servant in all ceremonies, aside from the sacred Neolowyn? Let me use your martsennas veil to hide my face. None would hear my voice, for no words are spoken. Not even the keen eyes of Legolas will know me!"  
  
It pained Alnein to see the grief in Lisaine's expression, but it seemed an impossible favor. Alnein listened to a renewed charge of horses riding by. The sound faded, and her attentions turned once again to Lisaine. The princess's grief was more than Alnein could bear.  
  
"If you are discovered, there will be a reckoning," said Alnein in a more serious tone of voice, "We would both be banned forever from further ceremonies by Donparamwen, and Lord Elrond would demand to know the reasons for your presence. Then your feelings would be made known to him. I do not doubt that he would be swayed to sympathy for thy cause, Lisaine, for all the elves are a source of beauty and wonder to mortal beings, and the great and wise Lord Elrond understands this. But from what I have seen of Legolas, he does not share your feelings, and for this to be laid bare in front of him, as I fear it would, then he would disavow and reject you all the more. I fear not for myself Nevariel, but you have much to lose."  
  
"For this risk I would face a thousand reproaches, but I will see that it shall not come to that. If I were to incur the wrath of Legolas I would choose the wiser course and not risk it. And I would not forsake thy standing here for myself, Alnein. If I were not sure I could dance the Nissalos as an elf and without fault, I would not ask it of thee. If there were another way I might see Legolas before he leaves, tell me now, so that I may abandon my request." Alnein shook her head.  
  
"I do not think there will be opportunity to see Legolas or Kerrinais now. They busy themselves with preparations of war and are never alone. There is no other way that I can see, unless you were to seek him out and walk up to him amongst a gathering of elves, and that would most certainly be frowned upon." A pall of despair seemed to cross over Lisaine's face, and she sat back on the floor, covering her face with her tiny hands. Alnein studied her friend from her seat on the bed. She had hoped to prepare Lisaine for Legolas's departure, but had in fact, only made matters worse for the girl.  
  
Without another word, the elf maid quietly stood up and walked gracefully over to a fine wooden trunk, with silver hinges in sprawling leaf like designs over its heavy lid. It creaked softly when she opened it. Reaching inside, the elf pulled out a carefully wrapped package. She took it over to the bed, and placed it down gently. Alnein unwrapped the thin linen to reveal a sparkling gray and brown gown, lined all over with deep red garnets and shimmering pearls. The rounded neckline was sprinkled with gleaming gems falling in intricate leaf designs throughout the bodice. The sleeves were long and flowing, almost floor-length, with the same complex elven designs as the skirts. Alnein stood, admiring the fine gown for a moment.  
  
"Come see this," Alnein smiled proudly, "Come and see the handiwork of the elves."  
  
Even before Lisaine knew what her friend was holding, the glimmer of the jewels caught her eyes, and her mood was lifted. It had been a long time since she had seen cloth so brilliantly constructed, with every movement, light danced off the material. Lisaine stood up and stepped closer to the bed. Alnein turned towards her. She gently placed the gown in Lisaine's hands and the princess felt it's weight pull down on her arms.  
  
"The beadwork is heavy on this gown," Alnein said, "But this is what you must wear to the ceremony, if you will go." Lisaine stared in utter shock and amazement. For fully five minutes she could not speak, but tenderly clutched the shimmering fabric in her hands. Alnein gave at her an assuring look.  
  
"Your rank and devotion have elevated you to the position of Nissalos this night, dearest friend. I do not see why a royal princess of Irwindal cannot dance for the prince of Mirkwood." Lisaine wrapped her arms around Alnein's neck and hugged her, though the elf did not reciprocate. Elves seldom hugged one another. Such overt displays were uncomfortable for the normally private elven people. Generally speaking, a touch on the hand or arm communicated solemn feelings. Hugging was more of a mortal custom, but Alnein did not push her away. However, when Lisaine released her, she was relieved. In her excitement, Lisaine did not notice the breach of etiquette. Then she returned her attentions to the Nissalos gown that Alnein had presented to her. She looked at the delicate material, and marveled at how it could hold up under the immense burden of the gemstones.  
  
"It's so beautiful," Lisaine said in a hushed voice, scrutinizing the fine beadwork.  
  
"It was made gift to me long ago...by my adoptive mother. She also was a Rivendell elf, though she came at length to live under King Thranduil's rule. She bade me wear it, should I come to this fair city, for she knew well the traditions and obligations here. Since that time, I have acquired two other Nissalos gowns, as you can see, but this one is my most beloved. It was my first gown and one given to me by my mother's family. Now I give it to you." Lisaine breathed a small gasp, and thought to refuse such a gift, but she knew the determination of will in Alnein, and did not want to offend her. Clutching the gown to her chest, Lisaine bowed low before Alnein.  
  
"I am eternally in your debt, Alnein. Thy friendship to me is truly remarkable."  
  
Alnein laughed, and bent down to pluck another package from the ancient wooden chest.  
  
"There is one more thing, Nevariel. You will need this most of all."  
  
Instead of unwrapping it, she simply handed it to Lisaine. After carefully placing the gown on the bed, Lisaine gingerly held the package and peeled back each piece of linen, until at last, it revealed a sparkling martsennas veil. The veil was made of the same fine and light material as the gown, with alternating garnets and pearls dripping from the fringes. The material seemed almost thinly opaque, yet when Lisaine held it up to the light from the window, neither tree nor stone nor sky could be seen. Alnein smiled slyly, and gently turned the cloth about to reveal an even lighter material on the other side, and suddenly Lisaine could see the entire breadth and width of the window, and beyond. She looked through the veil at all angles, in awe of the fine weave and texture.  
  
"None will see thy face," Alnein smiled, "But it may afford you a better view. There is no finer gown or veil in all of Rivendell, and in wearing this, know now that all eyes may be thrust upon you. For you will be fairer and shine more brightly this evening than any other Nissa. This veil matches the gown in every detail and the two must not be parted, therefore this also is yours."  
  
"Alnein," Lisaine said at last, laying the veil beside the gown, "These gifts are richer than my own royal trousseau. If I have anything to give in return, name thy desire and it shall be yours." Alnein took Lisaine's hand in her own and clenched it for an instant.  
  
"The elven folk do not desire of worldly goods...rather, they take pleasure and share in all things beautiful, and few have their own tokens that they keep. If in all else we are the same, then this shall be our one difference. I see reluctance in your eyes to accept these gifts because you feel you have nothing in comparison to give me in return, but put your heart to rest. I have no daughter or family to pass them to, and would take great pleasure in seeing you wear them in pride. Therefore, feel no obligation to return a like token to me, but rather take this opportunity I give to you now and use it well, for there is no small danger in your undertaking. You will bring yourself closer to Lord Legolas than ever before. Tonight you must be as the woodland folk. To be anything less would have the gravest of consequences. Now, you must prepare yourself in my room here, and leave with the martsennas veil in place. If anyone sees you, they will think you are me."  
  
So it was agreed that Lisaine would prepare for the Nissalos in Alnein's chamber. Removing her own brown and gray dress, Lisaiane slipped the Nissalos gown over her head. No drawstrings or clasps were needed, but rather the gown seemed to conform exactly to Lisaine's figure as she pulled it over her head, and it seemed to tighten around her. Lisaine marveled at how well it fit, but Alnein only smiled with approval. The princess wondered if there were some elven magic in the dress that bade it fit its wearer, or perhaps it was just that she and Alnein were similar in stature. Lisaine then brushed her long flowing hair next to the fireplace, a practice she had engaged in since she was a little girl. She loved the smell of apple wood rising from the small blaze, and little billows of smoke curled around the strands of her soft brown hair. Alnein helped Lisaine with the required braiding according to that of the Rivendell Nissalos elf maidens. Eight small hair braids crowned the top of Lisaine's head in an arc, then each was secured with a single garnet bead, then two braids were brought together and secured in the same manner, so that there were then 4 braids. Then 2. This was continued until there was one braid finally at the back of the head. This signified the 8 Nissalos maids coming together to dance as one. Next, Alnein laid the martsennas veil over Lisaine's head. Taking her own fine silver barrette, heavily laden with pearls and green stones, Alnein secured the veil to Lisaine's head, and then stood back to admire her. Lisaine stood tall, her shoulders held back, her hands lightly clasped. With each breath, the gown sparkled and glimmered and reflected light to all recesses of the room. Alnein nodded her head, as the faint sounds of elven singing rose up over the treetops, and she knew that it was time for Lisaine to go.  
  
"None will look upon you this night and not be affected," smiled Alnein, "You are truly a comely sight to behold. You must go now; it is time. Speak no word to anyone, and return here swiftly after." Lisaine nodded, and having bowed once more before Alnein in thanks, walked gracefully out the door and down the stairwell.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs, Lisaine reached the great stone archway that led to the main courtyard. Looking to the left and right, Lisaine could see a bustle of elves hurrying about the main square. Suddenly, her heart quickened, and she stood there motionless. Coming from the direction of the forge, were Legolas and Kerrinais. They paid no attention to anything around them, but were heading to the spacious landing that hovered above the falls, where most of the councils and ceremonies took place. They were 40 feet away, yet Lisaine suddenly felt stricken watching him walk ever closer. She wondered at his conversation with Kerrinais, and studied his serious expression, his mouth and then his eyes. She longed to run up to him and beg him not to leave for Isodor, but she dared not move. Almost without knowing it, the effusion of emotion that poured forth from her mind almost overwhelmed her, and then it snapped back abruptly as Legolas blinked his eyes suddenly and stopped in his tracks. He turned his head and looked directly at her as though she had attempted to read his thoughts against his will. Lisaine took a step backwards into the shadowed recesses of the doorway, terrified. Looking over Legolas's shoulder, Kerrinais whispered something. Legolas replied in elvish, his eyes not leaving the doorway. Then the two began walking again, and soon disappeared in the direction of the pavilion. Lisaine leaned against the thick stone wall for support, and thought momentarily to give up her endeavor. She considered that it was not too late to return to Alnein's room.  
  
"I cannot do this with fear gripping my mind," she said to herself, "He reads my very thoughts. I must lay down my weaknesses and be strong." The plaintive songs of the elf rites once again pierced her ears, and Lisaine walked with renewed resolve across the courtyard to the stairs. She looked up to the very top where Donparamwen stood with her eyes closed, chanting elven verse. Another Nissalos was already near the top, and stopped momentarily to bow to Donparamwen. She then continued into the Lostrom, a gathering place for elf maidens awaiting the beginnings of ceremonies. In the past, Lisaine had always come to the landing from a different direction, being an unveiled servant, but now she must ascend the sacred staircase as a Nissalos, and must go in full view of everyone. For a second, her eyes settled on the flame of the roaring fire in the main fire pit. The elven lords were already assembled and sitting on the stone floor, legs crossed, facing the fire in the cool of the evening. Servants were busily placing platters of Lembas, fruits, nuts, and meats next to the elf lords as they talked.  
  
Silently, she counted the line until her eyes fell to Legolas. The whole scene reminded Lisaine of her father's vast hall, where he would hold large feasts, and visiting lords and dignitaries would converse while dinners of venison and pheasants were placed on the long, main table. Torches would blaze forth, jutting from the thick stone walls of the room. Thirty feet high, banners from all the neighboring kingdoms, hung in honor from the peaks of the arched ceiling. Pursing her lips, Lisaine ascended the steps, hesitating only to bow to Donparamwen, who was still chanting in elvish. Then Lisaine passed by and stepped lightly in the direction of the Lostrom, where she could see the other Nissalos elf maids waiting. She meekly fell into the line of waiting maidens, her hands clasped in front of her, and stood silent. She found herself the fifth maid out of eight. None of the elves spoke as they waited, and Lisaine was grateful for this. All of the elf maids wore fine elven gowns of brown and gray, but not all were alike. Some were arrayed with brightly colored green stones, while others were only weaved with fine silver threads in intricate patterns.  
  
Donparamwen stepped inside the doorway, and whispered to each maiden in the line. Two switched places, and waited patiently. When the ancient elf approached Lisaine, she stopped. Not wanting to look directly at the elf, Lisaine gazed down and pretended to brush away a spec of dust from her dress. At that exact moment, another maiden appeared, bowing to the elf. This momentarily diverted Donparamwen's attention. When Donparamwen re- focused herself, whatever discourse she had intended was now gone. She simply said,  
  
"Alnienwen. You shall dance fifth this night. For Legolas, son of Thranduil."  
  
Lisaine simply nodded. Donparamwen continued down the line, and the final maids arrived. Lisaine shivered. This was most unexpected to the girl. She merely thought she would dance and be able to catch fleeting glimpses of Legolas, not to dance for him alone. But she quelled her reservations quickly. There was nothing she could do now but go through with her plan. All eight were now finally assembled. Somewhere beyond the platform, a lute began to play and the low resonance of a drum began. Then, as though they were one, all eight stepped forward at once, in perfect synchronization and made their way through the archway towards the platform.  
  
Legolas was enjoying himself. Although his disposition was generally of a serious nature, he was allowing himself this small bit of freedom to enjoy a meal and discuss the more carefree life of Mirkwood with Kerrinais. Both he and Kerrinais had been thrust into the battle at Euphratas, and now they were about to battle for the security of Isodor. There had been little time in between for relaxing, and although the feast that night was of a more solemn nature, Legolas felt almost lighthearted sitting by the firelight, listening to the low, musical sounds of the ceremony beginning. The beginnings of fall were upon them, and the chill of the night air seemed not to sway the atmosphere. Legolas looked up at a huge tree hovering over them in wonder, and the abundance of stars in the moonlit sky beyond. As small gusts of wind came and went, leaves would gently fall about them, like a light snow. Biting into a grape, Kerrinais leaned over to Legolas and gently tapped his shoulder, and jarred from his daydreaming. Legolas turned his attentions to the line of elf maids approaching the landing. They all stepped in faultless unison, almost sideways, always facing the elven lords.  
  
"Here they come," he said in a low voice nudging him, "Now you may see your handsome elf maid again. Look! There she is! Bedecked in fair garnets and pearls. She is the fifth maiden in the Nissalos line. That is the one you saw in the square. I told you she would be the one that danced for you, did I not? Donparamwen has chosen her well!"  
  
Legolas said nothing, but gazed at the entire scene now before him. Indeed, all eating and talking had ceased abruptly, as the very presence of the maidens commanded their full attention. Gently swaying, and stepping forward and back again, the maidens performed, and Legolas watched the Nissalos maid before him, almost entranced by the sparkle of her gown in the darkness, between him and the warming fire. Then the maids suddenly stopped, and took two steps forward. All knelt before the elven lords, one maid in front of each, and they waited. As Lisaine paused before Legolas, he could now fully appreciate her from up close. He studied the fine details of her veil, watching it tremble as she breathed, knowing that she was staring directly at him even though he could not see her face. A new, more melancholy music struck up from the lute, and the maid now continued her graceful movements on her knees, swaying back and forth, creating elven symbols of honor and devotion with her hands.  
  
He sat unmoving, his mouth slightly ajar, and he could not look away from the weight of her stare. A song from far away seemed to reach his ears, but it wasn't clear, a song of longing and desire. And in one, unlooked for move, Lisaine leaned in towards him while she moved to the music until her face was mere inches from his. He could almost feel her breath on him through the thinness of her veil, but neither could he see her eyes or mouth or any feature of her face. He fancied reaching out a single hand and gently pulling off her veil. It would be a simple action to do yet what would be the consequences? He thought he must be careful and not provoke her anger by his touch in this sacred place. He felt the same confusion in her presence now as when he first saw her hiding in the shadows of the ancient square. The desire to see her face, her eyes, which were so hidden from him, was almost overwhelming to Legolas. He thought to himself,  
  
"Yes, I shall discover her identity and sing to her in the forest. She would not be here if she were betrothed to another. We are of similar minds. I can feel her very spirit inside myself, but I must be careful in my approach."  
  
He remained still, and did not back away, almost daring her to move even closer, but she did not. Beguiled by the moment was Legolas, as if he had fallen under a spell. Then the maids stood gracefully up, their arms held above their bowed heads, and they filed away. The roaring fire once again came into Legolas's view, and he stared at it, shocked back to the present. He turned his head and watched the remaining Nissalos maids disappear down the path. Their arms were still raised and the lute continued to play. All at once, Legolas realized he had been holding his breath, but for how long he did not know. The sudden need for air took his attentions and he inhaled deeply. The sweet smell of apple wood and the forest came rushing in on him, and he closed his eyes to savor it.  
  
Entering the Lostrom one last time, Lisaine walked with some effort to a bench at the far end of the room and sat down. Beads of sweat trickled down her temple, and she struggled to sit straight, feeling faint. The weight of the gown seemed to drag down her very body, in its shimmering beauty, and she longed to once again dress in her plain and lightweight elven robes. She knew she had performed the ceremony faultlessly and without incident, yet Lisaine was unnerved and exhausted. Being so close to Legolas had affected her in a way that she hadn't anticipated, and she fought to regain her composure. Their eyes had locked and somehow he was looking directly at her and through her, and she was unable to break away from him. Another Nissalos, Aduhothien, suddenly noticed her in the corner and walked over to her.  
  
"Are you quite well?" she inquired. Lisaine said nothing, but waved her arm and nodded, while she rose and brushed past her towards the door. In the doorway, Lisaine looked up once again at the continuing feast. Lord Elrond was now standing, addressing the elven Lords, and all eyes were focused upon him and his discourse. Making her way by two other Nissalos dancers, who were lazily strolling in the same direction, Lisaine stopped only to bow once more before Donparamwen, who in turn, nodded her head, before she hastily sped down the steps and into the night.  
  
Alnein sat in a large chair before the fire, sewing beads onto a gown, when she heard the distinct sounds of footsteps coming up to her room. Lisaine walked quickly through the door and shut it behind her, and Alnein sensed the tenseness of Lisaine's demeanor. Helping her take off the veil, Alnein now saw the full burden of stress in her friend's eyes.  
  
"I have chosen wisely this night." said Alnein, "The influence of Legolas I can see clearly on your face. If you felt other than you have said, you would not be so affected by him. Do you need to sit awhile?"  
  
Lisaine shook her head.  
  
"I was only...frightened by it all," she breathed, "I shall never forget his eyes. His gaze was so unsettling, yet I yearned for it. I never thought he recognized me, yet he stared straight at me." Alnein grinned while helping her undress. Once Lisaine had changed clothes, Alnein carefully folded the beaded gown and veil in the delicate linen wrapping, and presented them to Lisaine.  
  
"Let this gown be a glad reminder to you of what you and Legolas have shared tonight."  
  
Lisaine gingerly took the gown and veil, pressing her fingers slightly into the linen, said good night to her companion and left to return to her own room. Walking along the darkened pathway through the main square that led to her bedchamber, Lisaine felt utterly exhausted. Each time someone ran by, she looked up, as if half expecting to see Legolas again, but they did not meet. Behind her, she could still hear the vague conversation of the elven lords on the pavilion. Finally, Lisaine trudged into her room, closing the door behind her. The fire was almost spent now, only a few smoldering red embers remained. Suddenly feeling chilled, Lisaine thought to throw some apple branches onto the fire, but decided against it. She was too tired. Walking over to the table, she set down her precious package and then fell onto the bed. Almost instantly she drifted off to sleep. 


	6. Night of the Neolowyn

Legolas took no peace that afternoon, for all his thoughts weighed heavy on the night before. As he sat at the guest hall with Kerrinais and Gandalf, his gaze fell from one elf maiden to the next as they busily brought out wooden plates of fruits, breads and meats for the captains of the army. Legolas pondered over each, scrutinizing her movements and demeanor, before dismissing her in his mind. He seemed to have little interest in the conversation with his peers, and it did not go without some notice. For a brief moment, Legolas was tired of war and death, and wished only for the happiness that a pair of lovely eyes might bestow upon him. But though he searched, he saw no one that he thought might be her. Gandalf leaned over to Kerrinais, a cup of tea balanced in his knarled hand.  
  
"I'm not sure that all of us are here today," he said. Kerrinais saw that Gandalf's eyes were fixed on Legolas, in mild amusement. Kerrinais too, turned his head to watch him, half from curiosity, half from concern. He knew that his friend had not been himself since the death of Illdinar, and he began to think of the tiny blue butterfly that had settled on Legolas's hair. Was it a portent of death for his other friend? Kerrinais was not afraid for himself. He felt oddly safe considering what they were facing, but the elusive butterfly was not to be taken for granted, and he thought to mention it to Gandalf, but ultimately decided against it. Such signs always followed through to their ends, no matter what councils might be had of it. He feared that Legolas's obvious distraction might lead him to costly mistakes on the battlefield. The next morning they were to set out on the campaign to save Isodor, and they all needed to be totally in control of themselves. Even then, the outcome of Isodor was not certain.  
  
"Legolas," he said softly. Legolas contemplated one last maiden for a moment before he turned his head to Kerrinais.  
  
"What is the matter with you today?"  
  
"Nothing. I was wondering..." his voice trailed off, and he stopped short of finishing the sentence when he realized that Gandalf was watching him.  
  
At this, Gandalf's face changed from one of mild amusement, to one of stern admonishment. It was as though he had read Kerrinais's mind, and was verbalizing his very thoughts.  
  
"We must be on our guard tomorrow," Gandalf chided, "Do not allow your fine company to erase from your mind why we are here. The forces of Sauron have now vast lands in which to plunder and multiply and fortify themselves. Rakal is a formidable foe, and we must be weary of him. Not all of his plans have been revealed to us. There is something here we are not seeing. Sauron's only thought now is to defeat the elves and take the elven strongholds. In this way he hopes to defeat all other races. We cannot be too careful in our plans to defend the city. You must be more aware, son of Thranduil."  
  
"You are right," said Legolas standing up, "I will return by the Neolowyn tonight."  
  
"Where are you going now?" said Kerrinais, "You've eaten nothing."  
  
"I will go down to the glades to check the provisions," said Legolas.  
  
Gandalf eyed him suspiciously, but said nothing. Legolas carefully stepped over the row of plates that were placed before him, and walked away from the banter of the company. Kerrinais watched him disappear out the doorway and then he turned once more to Gandalf.  
  
"He's been away from himself since the battle at Euphratas." Kerrinais said doubtfully. Gandalf smiled, stirring his tea.  
  
"I don't believe he is distracted because of Illdinar, I think his mind is engaged at some place other than battle." Kerrinais looked past Gandalf at the empty doorway and seemed puzzled.  
  
"Distracted is distracted, no matter what the cause. Now is not the time for any kind of distractions. We need Legolas." Gandalf sighed and nodded in agreement. Kerrinais stood up as though to follow Legolas, but Gandalf bade him sit down again.  
  
"Legolas, I think, knows the gravity of our situation, and he will be there at our need. Leave him for now." Kerrinais gazed at Gandalf, and was obviously not happy, but he remained. The feast continued into the afternoon.  
  
Legolas walked quickly down the stairs towards the main circle, which led to the road. All around him elves were busily transporting sacks of food and provisions for the great gatherings of elves, arriving almost by the hour, from all parts of Middle-Earth. All came for one purpose, to defend the nearby city of Isodor, and if that failed, to defend Imladris itself. He paused for a moment, looking back up to the archway leading to the ancient stone landing where the final ceremony, the Neolowyn, or hair tying ceremony, would take place that evening. His presence there would be expected. The ritual was traditionally reserved for only the generals of the elven armies. It was an ancient ceremony where a veiled elf maiden would tie a warrior's tresses in the manner of his kindred, and then present an offering of food. In this manner, the warrior would be reminded of that which he was leaving to defend, home and family, and now, their very way of life. Of course, no one needed reminding, and until that moment, Legolas thought of abandoning the ritual that night. His time would be better spent preparing for the offensive. Still, the elves were steeped in tradition, and it would be considered an insult for any leader to refuse the rite, particularly here in Rivendell. But now Legolas looked upon the impending night with renewed interest, and he turned suddenly, making his way back up the stairs towards the archway. He could plainly hear the almost jovial atmosphere of the continuing feast, and he made his footsteps even quieter, so that none would hear him as he glided by the entranceway to the great hall. He walked directly to a tall, red-haired elf maiden, Donparamwen. She was busily attaching a garland of greenery to a scrolled pillar. She carefully hung it about the bust of a forgotten statue, protruding from the pillar, cracked and gray, yet beautiful in its simplicity.  
  
"Donparamwen, I would speak with you."  
  
She stopped her work, and bowed slightly to acknowledge Legolas's presence.  
  
"How can I be of service to you, Lord Legolas?" she replied. Legolas pondered her appearance of young beauty, although by far she was more aged than he. He faltered for a moment, as if contemplating the wisdom of his action, but he was resolute.  
  
"I would know who the Nissalos were last evening. I must speak with one of the maids that danced." Donparamwen stared at Legolas, shocked at his bold inquiry. Two maidens doing similar work on the other end of the walkway also stopped their work, slowly putting down their garlands, unable to look away. Recovering her composure, Donparamwen began once again to secure the garland.  
  
"That I cannot do." she said, "To reveal such an identity is forbidden, unless the maid herself lift her veil to you of her own accord. But none have done so or I would know it. Perhaps you are not aware of our ways here, son of Thranduil. We have not had visitors from the great woodlands of Mirkwood for many long years, and our traditions have changed since our woodland cousins were among us, so I will not pursue this further." She continued her work, unconcerned. Legolas frowned for a moment.  
  
"Then I would ask for the fifth Nissalos dancer for my companion this evening at the Neolowyn ceremony."  
  
The ancient elf stopped her work again. She looked at him perplexed, as a mother would at a child who had just attempted the same mischievous prank twice.  
  
"You ask the impossible, prince of elves. You cannot request the Neolowyn companion. I am the only one to decide, and it is not your place to tell me. This is over your boundary."  
  
Exasperated, Legolas finally lost patience, and his penetrating stare made her suddenly uncomfortable. He stepped forward and drew his face close to her, as though to whisper where other ears could not hear, but in fact, he did not care who heard him. She stood rigid, even then afraid to move.  
  
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. You chose her for me did you not? And today you would deny me that which you gave to me freely yesterday. I will have the fifth maid for my companion at the Neolowyn tonight, and I will have no other!"  
  
Donparamwen did not know how to answer him. Legolas glared at her, and his words burned within her, but she remained silent as a stone. The other two elf maidens waited breathlessly for her reply. Instead Donparamwen simply bowed low to Legolas, and he turned angrily and walked away, unaware of the astonished stares he had provoked.  
  
Donparamwen felt her face flush as she watched Legolas tread quickly and silently down the stone steps. Then she looked up at the two elf maids at the end of the walkway who were still watching her in disbelief.  
  
"You may finish here and begin work on the seating arrangements. I will return shortly, I have an errand to attend to."  
  
The two immediately went back to their business, not daring to speak lest they should be rebuked as well. Donparamwen swept past them and down the stairwell, until she came to the beginning the main square. She walked across the ancient pathway to a small door, and, pushing it open she began climbing yet another, more narrow pathway leading up to a larger, heavier wooden door. As she approached, Donparamwen could hear the faint musical humming of the occupant inside the room. Slowly she pushed the door open, and saw Alnein, busily carving a small, wooden sculpture with a small silver knife, not unlike the one in which Lisaine possessed. Alnein looked up from her chair in surprise, and arose immediately, bowing low to her distinguished visitor. Donparamwen stood in front of Alnein, regarding her, this way and that with some curiosity, unable to account for Legolas's interest.  
  
"Put down your carving, and make preparations! For you must be companion at Neolowyn this night." Alnein could hardly believe what she was hearing.  
  
"What?" she whispered, "I have been summoned?! By whom?"  
  
"Legolas, son of Thranduil, and prince of Mirkwood has bade me order you to attend him."  
  
Alnein sat down, rigid in her seat. Her hands went cold. She could not betray Lisaine's confidence, and they would both be severely punished if the deception were discovered. Their peril was clear, and Legolas no fool. If she were to attend him as she was now commanded, it would not be difficult for Legolas to guess that she was not the one for whom he had asked. How could she possibly explain how she had let Lisaine, a mortal, take her place in the sacred elven ceremony? It was a betrayal of their very laws.  
  
"This cannot be," she stammered, "It is not permitted to make such a request!"  
  
"Yet," said Donparamwen, "It is so. You were the fifth maid to dance in the Nissalos, and Legolas says he will have no other than you. We cannot refuse this favor, Alnein. You need not reveal yourself to him if you do not wish it, but you must go nevertheless. But I must forewarn you; he means to speak to you on some urgent business. Be ready at sunset."  
  
Alnein continued to object to Legolas's bold demand. Finally, knowing that further debate on the matter was futile, she reluctantly agreed. Donparamwen, now satisfied, left to continue her preparations. Alnein leaned over in her chair and put her face in her hands. She remained this way for quite some time, contemplating how to free herself and Lisaine from the grave situation in which that they now found themselves. Then, remembering Donparamwen's words, a glimmer of hope for escape of their dilemma seemed to come to her mind, and she leaped from her chair and rushed out of the room.  
  
Lisaine had spent the morning in the wood, gathering herbs of Sage, Marjoram and others. She had just picked some of the luscious, sweet apples from her hidden tree, carefully packing each fruit into a small bag she carried with her. Each time she came to the glen, she feared that her beloved tree would be stripped of its fruit by some wild animal of the wood, but none ever had. Indeed, it was as though all hands were abstained from the tree but her own, and she picked and chose fruit at her whim. As she looked over each branch, her eyes saw a faint shadow on the ground. Looking up, on the uppermost branch, almost hidden by its leaves, was a single, large apple, ripe and luscious. It seemed to beckon her, and she wondered why she had not seen it before. Lisaine looked around her; all was quiet. Then lifting her skirts, she climbed the tree, until she thought its branches could no longer sustain her weight. With an outstretched hand, she barely touched it. Then with one last effort, she put her small foot on a thin branch and leaned further out. The branch began to bend downward and crack, but with one swift movement, she secured her prize, and stepped back again, and began the slow climb back down. Once she stood on the ground, Lisaine marveled at the deep red fruit.  
  
"You are perfect," she thought, turning it over and over, "I shall save you for my dinner this evening." With great care, she set it into her satchel on top of the spices she had procured earlier, and lay down to reflect on the evening before. Now that the danger was over, the princess allowed the giddiness of her achievement to overwhelm her. Her face had been mere inches away from his face. Almost close enough for her to touch it.  
  
How fine his face was! Lisaine closed her eyes, thankful the ordeal was over and that she had come away unscathed from her daring. It was here, beneath her tree, that Alnein finally found her. Lisaine was surprised at her friend's approach, but Alnein's countenance was so filled with doubt and uncertainty, that she instantly bade Alnein to sit with her beneath the great tree and divulge her troubles. For a moment, Alnein sat silent, as if to muster the exact wording of her discourse with the princess. Lisaine waited patiently on Alnein, until at last the elf maid spoke.  
  
"I have just come away from Donparamwen, who sought me out," Alnein began. Lisaine's eyes again seemed surprised, but no fear was in them.  
  
"Donparamwen?" said Lisaine curiously, "What did she want? Why do you tremble? Surely she was pleased with the Nissalos rituals, and I assure you dearest of friends, that none saw my face. What has happened?"  
  
And so, Alnein told her of Legolas's request, and that Donparamwen had summoned her to the Neolowyn ceremony that evening to be servant to him. Lisaine's back stiffened slightly at the mention of Legolas's name, and she gazed at Alnein, half envious, half overcome. She presumed that Alnein, who was now painfully aware of her companion's sentiments, was concerned for her feelings. With renewed resolve and relief, Lisaine spoke.  
  
"Then you must go as you are commanded, my friend," she said sedately, "I hold no claim to this, only that you have graciously permitted me a final glance at that which I should hold dear all my days. Be content, I hold no grudge to you." Alnein shifted uneasily on the soft leaves beneath her.  
  
"You understand not," said Alnein slowly.  
  
"Understand," Lisaine repeated, "What is there to understand?"  
  
"The Nissalos; it is more than a mere dance to the Elven lords who witness it. Your face was hidden Nevariel, but Legolas knows the look of your hands, your stature, unto every movement. Even unto your very smell, he knows." As if to solidify her argument, she gently reached over and held Lisaine's hand up to her face. Lisaine could clearly smell the sweet, tangy odor of apple juice on her hand.  
  
"He would know my touch is not yours, and therein seek out the reason why his request was not fulfilled. He is not expecting me," Alnein continued gravely, "He is expecting you."  
  
Lisaine breathed deeply, as though unable to catch her breath. She seemed to shrink away from the very words that Alnein spoke. Having dared be part of the Nissalos was only hazardous. The Neolowyn rituals were something entirely different. Not only would she be required to put her hands on his head and braid his hair according to his people, but also she would be expected to speak the Neolowyn rite with the other elven maids and look into his sparkling, penetrating eyes once more. She was required to present him with an offering of which she had nothing. Lisaine also knew it was now customary for the maid to lift her veil at the end of the ceremony and show her face to the lord she served, and therein receive his nod in thanks. The mere thought of his horrified rage terrified her. There were few elven rites that were held more sacred. A deception here, were it discovered, would not be merely reprimanded, it would be fatal.  
  
"I cannot do what you are asking!!" cried Lisaine, "You know I cannot! What will his anger be at my presence when he discovers me? He will know me at my voice, even if I am to stand veiled before him. You cannot ask me to do this! We will be exiled to the dark outreaches of the forest where the evil orc armies even at this moment gather for the siege. We will be outcast from these protected borders and will die at the hands of the dark legions that linger beyond! Please do not ask me! I cannot!" Lisaine's countenance by now was contorted with uncontrolled sobs and tears.  
  
"Calm yourself," said Alnein, "It is not required that you show your face. Listen to me..." her voice trailed off. Lisaine, still sobbing, shook her head, looking away. "Be comforted. All you need do is tie the braids of the noble Teleri to him. This I know you can do. When the rites are spoken, whisper as low as you can, and he may not hear your voice above the others. Then present him with what small offering of food you may, but hold to the ritual. It must be of your own choosing. After that you may return to the Lostram with the others. I will wait upon you there, as your servant maid. I will wear the Neolowyn martsenna and my veil out to the pavilion. Legolas may speak to any Neolowyn maid only there, and he will be at some distance. An assembly of elf maids will be at hand tending to the host as they come forth, and in the chaos, he may not tell of the concealment, and thus leave content. This is the only way, Nevariel. You must." Wiping away her tears, Lisaine turned to Alnein.  
  
"Bitter is the taste of this devotion," she said, her voice filled with despair, "I have brought you into this by my own imprudence and short- sightedness. Had I known of my deception's outcome, I would not have endangered you thus for my own folly's whims or taken risk of my lord's contempt and loathing. It would have been better had I never seen him. Forgive me! Forgive me!"  
  
"You ask for forgiveness for no offense," Alnein said soothingly, "Were I in your place, I would have requested as the like, and you would have done no less for me. Come now; take heart. You will see your master yet once more ere he goes to Isodor, and we shall grieve tomorrow of our lonely hearts, together."  
  
Lisaine smiled faintly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. The two stood up and made their way back to the city.  
  
Lisaine slowly climbed the long stone stairwell that led to her room and pushed the heavy wooden door open. She stood for a moment surveying the contents of the room, looking with admiration on the fine elven scrollwork that garnished every corner of the room. "How beautiful is all of this," she thought, "truly no place I have ever lived could be as beautiful." Walking over to a chest at the foot of her bed, Lisaine opened it and carefully pulled out the opulent gown she had worn at the Nissalos the night before. She would have to wear the same one, and she almost dreaded it for the immense weight it carried. She admired the beauty of dress once more, while she checked it to make sure there was no dirt on it. The gown however, was spotless and unwrinkled. In the back of her mind, Lisaine dimly recalled the scores of gowns she owned as princess of Irwindal. She might otherwise have her pick and choice of what she liked, now she must wear the same gown twice in a fortnight. Her father would be aghast indeed to see her grovel so, even in such nobler company!  
  
Quickly she blotted out her heavy thoughts. Each time her memory trailed back to her previous life, she inevitably began to think of her father and her last moments with him. It was too heart wrenching to bear, and she needed to think clearly. One last thing she pulled from the chest, a small hand mirror that she had brought with her during one of her many visits to Imladris. This she brought over to an end table next to her bed and propped it up against a stone urn. Sitting on the soft bed, Lisaine then began to practice braiding her own hair, in the same manner that she would be expected to perform that night. The various elf kindreds were alike, yet not. All had subtle differences. Lisaine had seen Legolas but a few times, but she knew his face well and could have carved his exact likeness in stone. She practiced the exacting braids in her own hair into the early evening. Finally, she sat back on her bed. Two trails of braided hair swept down her dress, starting at the temple and ending behind each ear, on either side of her face. Until this night, she wore a different braid, one of a different weave to the front of her ear, according to the style of the Rivendell elves. Tonight, to honor Legolas, she would wear the braid of the Mirkwood, but she reminded herself that she needed to remove the braids following the ceremony, for it would not be suitable for any other than a Mirkwood elf to wear them. She turned her head left and right, scrutinizing her work, until at last, satisfied of her success, Lisaine turned her attentions to her offering.  
  
Walking to the bowl on the table, Lisaine looked at the beckoning fruit with a frown. Nothing seemed red enough, or smelled sweet enough. What then could she give to a prince of the most noble and fair beings in the land? Then she remembered the single, perfect apple she had picked that afternoon, and almost rushing to her satchel, she opened the bag on her bed. The apple she had plucked from the highest branch only hours earlier, fell onto the soft coverlet along with the spices and herbs she had found in the forest. Picking up a long, hard stem, she held it to her face and breathed in. Lisaine loved the smell of spices, and thought to herself that no one could be unhappy at such an offering. She brought the apple and two spices, nutmeg and cinnamon, to the table. Using a small stone bowl and a grinding stone, she ground some of each spice and mixed them together. Next, she took a small jar of honey, and put a few drops into the mixture. Finally, Lisaine took her small silver knife, and cut the huge apple into quarters. She deftly skinned each piece, and gently rubbed the quarters in the spices and honey. Opening a small drawer in the table, Lisaine chose three supple mallorn leaves and individually placed the three pieces of the dipped apple onto them, and wrapped them.  
  
Their fragrant smell wafted up to Lisaine as she worked, and when she had finished, she took the remaining piece and ate it. A subtle, tangy taste made her mouth tingle for a moment, and then the honey and spices came through with a sweet, subdued flavor. She nodded her head in approval, and then put her treasure into the empty satchel.  
  
Lisaine gazed out the window; it was getting towards sunset, and she would have to hurry. She put on her glittering elven gown, which seemed oddly lighter than she had remembered it from the previous night and then secured her glittering veil to her head using the comb of many colored shimmering stones that Alnein had given her. Lisaine tied her satchel to her small waist, and caught a glimpse of herself in her hand mirror, still perched on the side table. She stood there for a moment, staring at herself. She could not see her own face in her reflection, but the whole garb was glistening and refracting firelight throughout the room as though she, herself were a gem, turning around in the light. She thought for the first time that she looked elvish. Then, as if to remind her of the urgency of her departure, she heard the soft beginnings of ancient songs, summoning the Neolowyn elf maids to the Lostram. Lisaine knew the songs well, for everything that was the elvish life she admired and strove to learn. She glanced out her window terrace, a vantage point where many things could be seen. Already, there was a gathering of veiled elf maids waiting to enter the great, airy room, sheltered from all eyes by long tarps of fine woven linens that hung from the windows. As each maid wearing the martsennas appeared, two or three maids would follow her in and disappear behind the curtain. She knew the elven captains were all gathered, expectantly awaiting the start of the ceremony, seated and silent. Shaken by the beautiful music, Lisaine suddenly felt ill, and breathed deeply. Straightening her veil, she looked cautiously out her door, before swiftly heading down the steps to the square.  
  
Lisaine quickly crossed the circlet landing keeping her eyes to the front, not daring to look at anyone that she passed. Climbing the stone steps as she had the night before, she remained fixed on the entryway to the Lostrom, her one goal. To the side, she could see Donparamwen busily engaged in a last minute adjustment of one of the long garlands that covered the archway. Lisaine held her head up high as she approached, and entered the Lostrom with no one taking notice of her. Once inside, her eyes had to adjust to the muted light of only a few torches. She surveyed the room, as she could see all maids were making final preparations to their mistress's dresses and adjusting their veils. Most were unveiled, but this Lisaine could not do. In a less lighted corner, Lisaine saw one Neolowyn maiden standing patiently alone, beautiful in a shimmering brown and gray gown covered in garnets, her face covered. Lisanine had caught a glimpse of this gown in Alnein's elven chest the day before, and she knew this was Alnein. Lisaine walked slowly towards her.  
  
"Come," commanded Alnein, " I have been waiting on you. Turn to the left here, and look to my hem...it needs adjustment."  
  
Lisaine came around to her side and knelt to her knees, and Alnein turned with her back now facing the other maidens. Bending over, Alnein deftly lifted a wooden tiara from her head, and placed it upon Lisaine's head, over her veil and the comb that held it. It sparkled with garnets that glowed red, and green gems, and pearls from the sea that lustered all colors in the torch firelight. Lisaine was chilled as she felt the weight of the diadem being put upon her head, and she instinctively stood erect. Alnein now took her place, adjusting the hem to Lisaine's dress. Almost instantly, Donparamwen came into the room, and everyone stopped their work and looked up expectantly. Lisaine stood terrified, not moving or looking away, thinking for a moment that the elf matron had seen the switch, but she only surveyed the group with approval and turned to stand just on the other side of the doorway.  
  
"It is time, pelenwen," she said, and bowed low.  
  
"Keep your mind to your business," Alnein whispered in Lisaine's ear as they began to file to the door, "Unless Legolas read your thoughts once more. Do not shake so. I will be waiting here for you when you return."  
  
Outside the doorway, Lisaine could hear the plaintive voice of Donparamwen singing, softly at first, but then it grew louder and clearer. The elf maids slowly began their procession, single file, through the door. She was third in a line of ten, and the increased number from the Nissalos the night before gave her some small comfort. There were more than eight generals to the army, Lisaine surmised, but not all elves. Even Gandalf would not be in this company of greatness, and for that she was also grateful. The scant torchlight made the walkway barely visible to Lisaine beneath her veil, but the other Neolowyn glided up the path with little effort. The smell of jasmine and burning herbs hung heavy in the air as they approached, and Donparamwen's singing became faint as another elven maid began. As the group came to the top of the landing, Lisaine's gaze quickly scanned the seated group. There were some whom she did not recognize, but she shivered to see Lord Elrond sitting last in the assemblage. Always her thoughts were to discovery, until, at last her eyes set to the third elf seated in the group. There was Legolas, calmly looking to the elf maid who was singing softly, just beyond sight of the elven lords, beyond the adorned archway. His face did not betray any anticipation or excitement, but he sat tranquil, with his hands in his lap. In his left hand he held a long elven arrow, in his right hand, he held a glittering, silver knife (as did each of the elf lords), unsheathed, with rich scrolling on the handle. With the other elf lords, his hair lay smooth about his face, almost hiding his intense blue eyes.  
  
When she saw Legolas, her heart raced inside her, but as she stepped towards him, all fears and doubt melted away. Slowly, solemnly the elf maids glided behind each lord, and stood quietly. From beyond sight, the soft voice of the elf maiden spoke, and each Neolowyn chanted the same prayer aloud.  
  
Herein lie our protectors,  
  
The high and ancient elven lords,  
  
Keep thine arrows set to their marks,  
  
Keep thy swords swift to thy purpose,  
  
Our humble offerings to thy heart,  
  
Blessed elvendom to thy fierce will,  
  
Let not the scourge assail us,  
  
But return to the Neolowyn, and the water, and the beauteous forest,  
  
Or bitterest shall be our loss,  
  
As the elf maids finished their prayer, somewhere behind them, Donparamwen began to sing again, and in one, uniform, spontaneous movement, the Neolowyn maids took one step forward. Legolas could feel the presence of the maid as she stood in back of him. He longed to turn his head and look at the beauty and symmetry that he knew was there, mere inches away, but he restrained himself. He was not allowed to make any movement. As the maid lifted her hands, his eyes darted to the side to catch a glimpse, if they could, and she stopped abruptly for a second, as if she were thinking that he would turn around. Then, the Neolowyn maids all began to tell the tale of the elven lore. The first battles of the greatest armies that overthrew the shadows of the East were spoken, and Legolas strained to drown out all sounds but her voice. Barely perceptible it was, she murmured so softly. It seemed to him that her voice was like a fiery star across the night sky, fleeting in its beauty and then gone. Always did he long for that starlight to linger a moment more, but it was gone. Only the memory of her musical whisper did he have, and it tortured him. He yearned to hear her voice again, but she did not speak to him, and he did not recognize the sound of her voice.  
  
The lute was played, he could feel her small, soft hands upon his head, and he closed his eyes. He breathed in, and once again the sweet, delicate fragrance of the forest and of apple wood surrounded him, and Legolas knew she was the selfsame maid from the Nissalos come to him. Lisaine carefully gathered a lock of Legolas's flaxen hair, and gently pulled it away from his perfect face. Dividing the strand into three even sections, Lisaine began to gently braid, pulling one length under the far left, then another under the far right. She attempted to keep her thoughts to the task at hand, but she could not help letting herself stray, and she found it difficult to not think about how soft the touch of his hair was, and even how his noble bearing was unparalleled. Having finished the back, Lisaine moved to Legolas's side and deftly began the same two smaller braids at his temple, just behind his left, pointed ear. Standing here, Legolas's head did not move even a little to the right or left, but as Lisaine worked, she could feel his stare. She stopped for but a moment, and diverted her eyes from her labor, and she could see the same sparkle in his gaze that she had seen that first day in the gorge. She knew that he could not see her face, but just as the night before, he seemed to look through her veil and hold her in a spell, and she could not break free of it. Her hands, still holding the last remaining bit of braid, lowered till they rested on his shoulder, and for that brief instant, Lisaine was not aware of where she was or what she was doing, only that her lord was there.  
  
Vaguely, Lisaine realized that the Neolowyn maid to her left was now waiting patiently for her to finish. She stood erect and meekly brushed the two small braids behind Legolas's shoulder. Then she moved behind him, and to his right side and began the same ritual. His heart quickened as she finished the fifth and final braid, and laid it tenderly down as she did the others. Then Lisaine moved effortlessly in front of him, standing silently. Legolas marveled at her small stature and tiny waist, and he cocked his head slightly from side to side, as though he could manage a better view of her splendor. The fine Neolowyn tiara she wore bore garnets, emeralds and pearls, and this coupled with her flowing and opulent brown and gray gown, almost assuredly meant she was of Elrond's kindred. Yet, Legolas was troubled, and he could not quite understand why. Her fairness and grace were without question, yet there was something more here, and Legolas was confounded by few puzzles.  
  
When every maid stood before the lord they attended, Donparamwen began a different chant, and each Neolowyn bowed low to the lord before her. As Lisaine moved, Legolas watched the firelight refract off her gown and diadem in a thousand particles of light, and sparkle that was as gold dust thrown into the sunlight. Again the torment of her very presence strengthened his resolve to find out who she was, this small, delicate maiden who captivated him so completely.  
  
The elf maid, still hidden from sight beyond the archway, began her final melodious rhymes. Instinctively, Lisaine reached to her satchel, which was virtually covered by the length of her veil. Peeling apart the mallorn leaves, she revealed the spiced apple quarter that she had prepared earlier. Cupping it in her hands, she raised her arms over her bowed head, and presented the offering to Legolas. Lisaine lifted her eyes, and held the end of the seasoned fruit almost to his very lips. He gently leaned forward, not taking his eyes from her, and bit into the offering. It seemed to Lisaine that he looked almost surprised, like Neonean was that first day in the gorge, yet he readily accepted it. Lisaine's eyes momentarily rested on the Neolowyn to her left, and realized that the other maid's offering was Lembas. She wondered if she had made a mistake by not offering so common a food, but it was too late now for such questions. Lisaine stood up before him, and saw an imagined longing in his eyes and she reprimanded herself for not having been more guarded in her entire behavior. One by one, to her right and to her left, the Neolowyn now unveiled themselves, to meet with smiles of approval, and grateful nods of the elf lords. But Lisaine stood motionless, unable to move. She realized in horror that she was the only maid to leave her face covered. The Neolowyn were not obligated to do this, but Lisaine could feel the very weight of his expectation and penetrating stare upon her, and the terror of being revealed flew back to her in an awkward moment of silence. Then the melancholy singing of Donparamwen could be heard behind the assembly again, and it was over. The maids filed quietly back down the pathway to the Lostrom, and Lisaine breathed deeply with relief that all had gone as planned.  
  
As the maids entered the doorway, the Neolowyn servant maids met them, and they began to remove to the pavilion. Lisaine could clearly see the veiled shape of Alnein, waiting silently in the same corner where she had last seen her. Lisaine walked directly to her, not speaking, but instead she held out her hand and clasped it for a moment. Then Alnein knelt before her, as if to adjust Lisaine's gown, and Lisaine gladly returned the tiara to Alnein's forehead. Alnein stood up, lifting her veil and breathing deeply. But before Lisaine could utter a word, she heard subdued whispers from the other maids in the room. All color drained away from Alnein's face, and the princess turned her head abruptly. There she saw the slim outline of Legolas standing in the doorway.  
  
He stood silently surveying the room. He walked calmly over to a small group of servant maids who stood to the right of the open doorway, and spoke to them quietly. Hurriedly, they gathered their belongings and left the room, glancing back several times before disappearing. Then he came slowly to where Alnein and Lisaine stood rigid. Neither of them dared to move or speak. He looked at each one as if he were unsure which was which. Finally, Legolas looked at Alnein and murmured to her in elvish. She looked intently at Lisaine, and still did not move. In a quieter voice now, Legolas spoke again, this time in the common tongue.  
  
"Leave us now, Neolowyn, I would speak only with she who tended me tonight."  
  
He knew. Silently, Alnein bowed before the warrior and piteously glancing once more at her friend, Alnein withdrew from the room, leaving Lisaine to face Legolas. As she stood there before him, it seemed to Lisaine that the city of Isodor would be easily defended. Legolas need only look at his enemies and they would recoil from his very presence. Standing face to face, neither said any word or made any movement. Until at length, Legolas spoke,  
  
"It was you who danced the Nissalos last night by the moon."  
  
Lisaine simply nodded.  
  
"And it was you who were servant to me at Neolowyn this night." Again, Lisaine slowly nodded, keeping her eyes to the floor. Legolas took a single step closer to her, and moving his hand underneath the cover of her veil, lifted her chin until she was forced to look at him again. But Lisaine did not see anger there, only questions. Oddly, the spell of his gaze did not seem to affect her now, but Lisaine came to the realization that their deceit had not entirely been laid bare.  
  
"I would know the name of my temptress," Legolas began again, "Can you not at least tell me your name?" She longed to speak to him, but did not dare. Her heart was wrenched. It was clear he didn't know who she was yet. She tried to remind herself of his disdain at their first meeting in the gorge, and of his indignation if he were to recognize her, and these thoughts steeled her against his tender caress now. Lisaine shook her head and Legolas sighed.  
  
"If you will not speak to me, let me see your face, and look to your eyes, for I can feel your fear, and I would calm you. I come only to know who you are, Neolowyn, nothing more." Legolas gently began to lift Lisaine's veil, but she quickly put her hands upon his arms and stopped him. Then, taking one of his hands, Lisaine brought it underneath her the shimmering face cloth, and turning it upwards, tenderly kissed his palm. A tear trailed down her face, and he could feel the tickle of it rolling off his fingers. Lifting her arm, she touched his cheek and broke away, walking quickly out the door just as Donparamwen stepped in. From within the chamber, she could hear Donparamwen angrily chiding Legolas for his presence, but she did not hear him utter a word.  
  
"He has not told her," Lisaine thought as she quickly walked away.  
  
Legolas stood there momentarily, paying little attention to Donparamwen. At last, he bowed to her and spoke to her in elvish, and she seemed somewhat appeased by his action. He turned and quickly walked to the doorway, scanning the multitude that were assembled on the landing. The noise of the crowd came rushing to his ears. He searched for the maid, but she was gone. Perhaps he had been too bold, he thought. Glumly he walked through the crowd and headed towards the house of Elrond where he and Kerrinais shared a room. Legolas suddenly felt tired and thought to rest awhile, if he could, before daybreak. He was almost to his destination when his eyes fell on Gandalf and Kerrinais, walking from the direction of the glades.  
  
"We have but 300 horse riders," said Kerrinais.  
  
"The horses will be enough I think," said Gandalf, "In the wood, there is little room for maneuvering. We will fair better on foot, though I'm puzzled still, why would Rakal venture so far North? Surely he does not hope to battle the elves on their own ground, the elven power is increased even as far as Isodor. Ah, Legolas! Come and join our counsel!" Legolas stepped in line with them as they walked. Legolas was glad for the distraction of conversation, and he walked with them as they made their way across the square.  
  
"It is strange," Kerrinais said at last, "At Tuluth and Irwindal his brazen assault completely took the cities by surprise. There was nothing left, not even prisoners or slaves were taken. Rakal MUST know that the elves will be better prepared in defense of Isodor and Imladris. Take Rivendell, and then even Mirkwood might be controlled. If Rakal can accomplish that immeasurable goal, there will be no one left in the North to oppose him, and Rakal would surely sit better in the Dark Lord's favor. None but Rakal would attempt such a bold feat. But Rakal's evil purpose in coming to Isodor eludes me. There is nothing there worth such efforts. It is but a small place with hardly any elves." Legolas nodded as he walked.  
  
"Yes," agreed Legolas, "Vicious for glory as Rakal is, it is not like him to stumble from one onslaught to another. Rakal enjoys the total ruin of his conquests, and preserves his renown with his malice. He lingered and entrenched himself in the strongholds of Irwindal, and took his time in burning the forests and everything within it. He merely laid waste to Euphratas and left it. His coming here so quickly makes little sense to me, and there is no prize for his taking in Isodor, unless he intends to use it as a base to overthrow Rivendell itself." Gandalf stopped short and stood motionless, as though a sudden realization came upon him. Legolas and Kerrinais halted and looked at him.  
  
"Perhaps he does not yet know where the prize is kept!" he exclaimed and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction, "I will speak to you in but awhile! There is something I must attend to at once!" The two friends watched Gandalf bustle away. Kerrinais turned at length to Legolas, and said,  
  
"I am off to see to the armory. There is only a little time to complete preparations before the march tomorrow, will you come with me?"  
  
"If we are not prepared enough now, then I don't believe the short hours until daybreak will make the difference. No. I must see to Neonean before the morning comes."  
  
"Be weary of yourself," Kerrinais blurted out suddenly, "The effects of the Carner Blue are still upon your brow. A cloud of gloom prevails around you. I can sense it. Perhaps you should remain to secure the defense of Imladris, if it should come to that." Legolas smiled.  
  
"Be at ease friend. I am myself. Rakal will not find in me as easy a target as his other victims. As for the Carner Blue, I cannot foresee my destiny, yet I am inclined to believe it a foretelling of good fortune and victory, rather than disaster. Peace be with you, Kerrinais." With that, Legolas left, and Kerrinais turned in the direction of the armory.  
  
Legolas walked through the square, towards the great and ancient stone archway that heralded the entrance to Rivendell. Beyond it was the small dirt road, leading down the mountain, past the many rocky ravines and forests. The rush of the many waterfalls around Rivendell filled his ears in a symphony of water crushing against rock, mingled with the bustle of preparations for the next day's march. All about him on the road, riders rode to Rivendell from the forest encampments and back, messages being relayed for every detail and consideration of the awaiting army. Legolas barely noticed the bent, gray figure of Gandalf, galloping away from him. He considered his stature, his gray hair flying in the wind behind him. Almost as quickly as he had seen him, Gandalf disappeared, and Legolas thought no more about it. A little further down the lane, Legolas broke from the path, and began to make his way into the forest, away from the din and excitement, towards a small meadow. Neonean, it seemed, had been most content to remain there, grazing on the lush grasses and flowers, and Legolas did not insist to keep her corralled with the other horses. Neonean knew her master, and would come to his call at his need. The moon was almost at its zenith, almost completely full. The light threw eerie shadows upon the rocks and fallen tree trunks and the noise and bustle of the night faded as he made his way deeper and deeper into the woods. There was now only the rushing water, the chirping of crickets, and the wind playing with the leaves in the trees above his head.  
  
Then a new sound broke through to the elf warrior's ears, almost as he came to the meadow. He stopped and listened. Almost a whisper, it was. So inaudibly low and soft that at first he thought to be imagining it. He took one step further. The wind suddenly changed direction, coming from the south now, and it seemed to carry the better measure of the sound over the air to him. It was clearer now. Soft and melodious, and the notes struck Legolas to his heart's very depth. He now thought he recognized the selfsame voice from the Neolowyn maiden he had seen earlier. He hastened to a clump of bushes and parted the branches, peering through the thicket. In the meadow, stood a longhaired maiden with Neonean. Her back was to him, and he could not make out her face, but the dulcet tones of her voice were unmistakable. She sang softly, whispering to the mare, stroking its muzzle with her fingertips.  
  
Oh light of Varda, oh ancient elven wise,  
  
Oh softness of the forest mosses, in thy elven eyes,  
  
Thy golden hair as soft and light as morning breeze,  
  
Thy touch I keep forever, my heart to keep for thee,  
  
Oh warrior of Northern wood,  
  
Of noble birth of kindred good,  
  
To thy footsteps the lands all yearn for thus,  
  
To bitter cry thy parting, for the fair Legolas,  
  
He stood in awe, listening, not certain that he should interrupt the maid's reverent songs. At last he could bear no more and stepped forth through the bushes, walking steadily towards her, although she did not seem to be aware of him. Legolas was almost upon her, when the maid turned her head and realized that he was there. She jumped back, startled, and quickly began walking away. Legolas quickened his pace and called out to her,  
  
"Hold! Be still!" The maid stopped short, and in a moment Legolas was beside her. Lisaine closed her eyes tightly, visibly shaken as she awaited the inevitable retribution of her daring, but it never came. After a few seconds, Lisaine garnered her bravery, and opened her eyes to him. The tall, handsome elf stood before her, turning his head this way and that, as if contemplating some odd dilemma, but he was smiling. Neonean had now ambled up between Lisaine and Legolas, pushing her nose at Lisaine's waist satchel. Legolas gently pushed the horse's nose to one side and stepped closer.  
  
"I had not hoped to see you again this night, Neolowyn," he said gently. Lisaine did not know how to answer him at first. Finally, she replied weakly,  
  
"You are mistaken, my lord. I am not a Neolowyn. Naught but the elf maidens may partake in that sacred ceremony. And as you see, I am not an elf." Legolas drew a hand through her long, sensuous hair, and his gaze rested on the two braids behind her ear. Lisaine shivered and lowered her eyes, ashamed to look at him. In the confusion of the night, Lisaine had entirely forgotten to take out the Mirkwood braids from her hair.  
  
"Hmmmm. Indeed," he replied, still amused, "Tell me Neolowyn, neither are you Sindarin, yet you wear your hair in that manner. Is that not also forbidden?" Lisaine trembled at his touch, and she could not find the strength to move. She breathed in deeply as he patiently waited for a reply.  
  
"You are right, Legolas. I only wear these braids to honor the noble elves of the Northern wood. But I would not offend you for any cause of my own. I shall remove them at once." Lisaine moved to pull apart the braids, but Legolas pulled her hands to her sides, and shook his head.  
  
"Leave them, they become you," he said, "Tell me now, how came it that you are here in this meadow tonight? Why are you not in Rivendell?"  
  
"I have come to say goodbye to thy noble steed, Legolas, who has become my friend in these last few lonely days." The great horse had now come forward again and was sniffing at Lisaine's waist satchel. Without diverting her eyes, she desperately tried to push Neonean from her. Legolas was visibly amused now, and focused his attention to the bag at her waist. Picking it up, he looked again at Lisaine.  
  
"And I suppose you have brought her something to eat? She'll not be content with the same morsels you carry for your woodland rabbits this night. My steed would dine only on the greenest grasses and golden grains before a battle, but she seems to desire what you mean to give her. If I look to your purse, what would I find?"  
  
"I have only a humble offering," Lisaiane replied, looking to her waist. She unconsciously opened the satchel and pulled from it one of the quarters of the prepared apple, "Not worthy of so great and beautiful a horse, but it is all I have, and the only thing that I might call my own. Only a bit of apple from an ancient tree here in the wood."  
  
"An apple," Legolas said matter-of-factly. Lisaine fed the morsel to the great mare. Almost at once, Lisaine realized her blunder, but there was no recanting it.  
  
"You would give my horse the selfsame offering as I? Do not deny to me who you are. I thought I knew you when I heard the first notes of your voice here in the glade, but now I am doubly sure. Brave you are to attempt such feats as you have these last few days. You have taken great risk to be at my side, maiden. Now that I stand before you once more, do not abandon the truth to me, face to face, for that indeed would be disloyal to me." Lisaine could not speak. There seemed no denying to him that it was she who came before him at both of the elven ceremonies, and now there was nothing for her but his rebuke and the inevitable consequences of her actions. Tears welled in Lisaine's eyes as she suddenly lifted her head high and confronted him.  
  
"I only seek to honor that which I hold high above all else! Be not harsh with Alnein or myself, my lord! I begged her to allow me the honor of going in her stead at the Nissalos. And then Alnein was commanded to attend to you this night, but she knew that we would be discovered. I dared to incur thy wrath once more so that you would know the same maiden attended you. I only thought to look upon you one last time ere you went away, because I have loved none but you since the day we first met. If my broken heart at your parting tomorrow is any recompense to you, I will suffer enough! I beseech thee, do not have us exiled from Rivendell!"  
  
"Be not afraid," he said with a softened voice, wiping her tears with his fingers, "Your secret is kept safe. Here, do not cry. A king does not suffer to punish those that risk their lives in his favor, and I would not keep thy company long away from me for any reason. How can you believe I would be the instrument of your death when you have become the instrument of my life?"  
  
"Then...you are not angry?" said Lisaine wiping her eyes. Legolas gently smiled at her.  
  
"Do you not think that a warrior cannot be moved to reverence? The eldar are perhaps more cautious where our hearts are placed. Perhaps we are less inclined to lose ourselves to passion than mortal kind. But it does not mean we are incapable of feelings. You have felt the connection between us, I am sure of it. Your risking every conceivable loss proves it. Destiny has foretold it. For all circumstances have worked hard to bring us to one another Nevariel, and neither of us can deny that."  
  
Lisaine looked up at him, trying to fully comprehend the meaning of his words. She stood there, watching him, his bright, gleaming eyes, his alabaster skin, the perfect contours of his sculpted cheekbones and jaw line. He was indeed more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen. She realized, almost imperceptibly, that his face was moving closer and closer. Legolas cupped his slender hands around her face, stepped in, and pressed his lips to hers, tenderly kissing her. At length, he pulled away and whispered to her,  
  
"I have but a few hours till the dawn, Nevariel. Sooth my heart and spend that little time with me. Walk with me in the forest and do not run again from me. For tomorrow will I be loathed to leave thy company." Lisaine put her hand to his lips.  
  
"Speak not of Isodor, Legolas," and an expression of pain seemed to come to her face in the moonlight, "But if you will, let us walk awhile under the night sky. Lead me where you may, and I will follow you unto the very ends of the world."  
  
And so, hand in hand, Legolas and Lisaine walked through the woods, as Neonean followed behind, munching on soft-dewed grasses and flowers. Lisaine sang softly to Legolas, elven songs of old, and he relished in the sweet, perfect tones of her voice, like a parched deer quenching its thirst at a mountain stream. They would stop walking and gaze up at the stars and the brightly lit moon at its zenith, and Legolas spoke to Lisaine the lore of the elves while Lisaine listened. At last they came to Lisaine's apple tree and sat beneath it, and Legolas pulled her close to him, to keep her warm from the chilly night breezes, and he kissed her once more. Here under the sweet perfume of ripened apples, and the soft sounds of rushing water did they speak tender words to one another, and neither gave thought to the coming day or the sadness of their parting being at hand. For the night was waning fast, and even as they arrived, the first pale stretches of pink and gray began to cover the horizon. Legolas at last looked up at the sky, attentive to the hushed breeze. Lisaine could only hear the rush of the nearby waterfalls, but she knew that he was listening to the elf army, mustering for the journey to Isodor. Legolas stared back at her with pained eyes, but Lisaine put her fingers to his lips once more, and bade him not to speak.  
  
"I know that our time is short," she whispered, "But I beg you to take this token of my love with you and keep it to you, and know that unto you I am ever devoted."  
  
Then without further words, Lisaine pulled her small, silver dagger from her belt, and cut two of the four Sindarin braids from her hair, one from each side of her head. She tied them together and placed the braid in his hand, and closed it around the strand. He smiled, and kissed her forehead, and standing, carefully tied the long braid of Lisaine's hair around his belt. He held his hand out to Lisaine, and she stood with him as he called to Neonean. He searched for the words that would make their parting less painful, but he had none. Neonean came trotting out from the darkness of the woods, still untouched by the first rays of morning sunlight. At last, Legolas said,  
  
"I will return to you as soon as I may, but if our defense should fail..." tears welled in Lisaine's eyes, and she shook her head as if bidding him not to speak his thoughts. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Lisaine's hair once more to calm her.  
  
"If the defense of Isodor should fail, Nevariel," Legolas continued gravely, "You must leave here, for it will not be safe. There will not be enough elves left to defend Rivendell. Take whom you may, then go to Mirkwood. Seek out my father, and tell him I have sent you and he will protect you until I return." Slowly she nodded as she watched him lightly jump on the back of Neonean. Legolas bowed and touched his hand to his chest and then opened it towards Lisaine in a parting gesture. Then, Legolas and Neonean galloped away, leaving Lisaine standing alone underneath the apple tree. 


	7. The Battle for Isodor

Leoglas thus rode away from Lisaine in the glade, just as the morning rays peeked through the rustling treetops. Though Neonean was of large stature, she was used to traversing uneven woodlands, and quickly trotted over the craggy ravines and jumped over felled tree trunks. At last Legolas came to the road, and stopped, for the procession of the elven army was already underway, coming towards them. Five elven battle lords led the way, Balanthos and Menarn, and Hanthenar, Marsanganion and Kerrinais. Each held a great elven shield, sparkling silver and blue in colors, depicting the arms of their homelands. Each held in his right hand a bow or long silver spear, with richly scrolled designs along the entire length of the shaft. Following the lead party were 300 horsemen, brandishing longbows and like battle shields, their helmets sparkling in the morning sun. Behind these marched a line of similarly armed elves, six deep, 400 in all. As they approached Legolas, Kerrinais lifted his bow of Mirkwood high in the air, and the whole company came to an abrupt halt. From the center of the city, a soft melodious music lulled over the forest, a goodbye from the elf maidens of Rivendell. A comforting sound it was, a constant low resonating song. When one voice died down, another began, so that the entire melody never ceased. Legolas tightened his legs slightly and Neonean trotted obediently up to the company and fell into place at the head of the line, beside Kerrinais. An elf ran up beside the great horse, handed Legolas his quiver, and waited patiently for him to tighten his knife and quiver belt to his chest before handing him two sparkling long knives, one of them Menea. The elf threw a thick satchel of supplies over Neonean's back, behind Legolas. Then the elf handed Legolas his vambraces, and finally his Mirkwood bow with the royal seals of King Thranduil, his father, scrolled upon it. When Legolas was thus prepared, Balanthos raised his spear, and the procession started again to the forest fortress of Isodor. The only sounds to be heard were the clanging of armor against shield, or horses hooves striking the hardened dirt of the road, and the soothing, musical lament of the elf maidens.  
  
Then suddenly rising over the brisk morning air there came a single wretched cry from somewhere deep in the forest, so despondent and so grievous, that several horses reared up, and broke the lines, straying either to the right or left, and had to be coaxed back into their places. The soft music from Rivendell had also ceased; such was the overwhelming sadness of the wail, the elf maids too, stopped their song to listen to it. The elves maintained the march, but looked at one another in wonderment at what could utter such a desolate and sorrowful sound. It lasted only a few seconds, and then was gone, washed away by the soft sounds of the rushing Bruinen. The elf maidens returned to their task, their melody growing quieter and quieter. Kerrinais glanced over to Legolas, with the same questioning look, half expecting his companion to be gazing about the trees or the sky, searching for the source of the piteous cry. But Legolas had not done so. He rode stiffly on Neonean's back, tightly clutching his bow with one hand and a lock of braided hair, which hung from his leather belt, with the other. His face betrayed no emotion, but he rode thus forward, with his head bent low and his eyes shut.  
  
It was late in the afternoon before Lisaine returned to her chamber. All of Rivendell was oddly quiet, the bustle of the past several days over with, as if past the end of a great festival. Walking slowly to her terrace, she pulled at the sparkling white comb in her hair, suddenly aware that her head and eyes hurt. She fingered the comb, gazing at it, but not thinking anything in particular before she returned to the chamber and placed it upon the rounded table in the corner of her room. Then Lisaine came back to the terrace. The afternoon sun's rays hit her face, making her skin feel hot. Shielding her eyes with a tiny hand, she watched several elf maids below. They wandered carelessly through the square, talking low to one another, not noticing Lisaine's presence above. With her other hand she aimlessly combed her tangled tresses, and her hand suddenly stopped at the cropped length of hair, the end still slightly braided. Her hand fell to her side.  
  
The light sounds of footfalls running up the stairs to her door prompted her to turn around. Alnein walked through the door, anxious and tense, with a great smile upon her face. Lisaine was unmoved. The whole of the day's loss was not yet fully comprehended, yet the princess knew that an even larger hole was now left in her heart than when she first came to Rivendell some weeks before; a feat that she scarcely had thought possible.  
  
"Not now Alnein," she said, "Please do not think me uncourteous, but I would rather be alone today. I am too tired." She turned back around to look out her terrace again while Alnein continued her way into the room grinning.  
  
"Nevariel! Nevariel! I have come with news for you! Mithrandir has come back to Rivendell from the Northern pass!"  
  
Lisaine continued gazing out into the square, where only hours before, the elven army had set out to meet Rakal's dark forces. The surrounding trees beyond the gorge had lost some of their beauty to Lisaine, and she thought about abandoning her daily walks into the forest. She felt she could never feel the same about them.  
  
"I care not of Gandalf just now," she replied with no feeling in her voice, "Alnein, do you suppose you will ever see your brother again after this black day?"  
  
Alnein came up from behind and touched Lisaine's shoulder.  
  
"Fear not for Kerrinais OR Legolas, for they are the bravest and the best in all elvendom, save for the great and noble elf kings and queens. None has better skill or is a better warrior. They will come away without harm." The princess turned around to face Alnein, her words of comfort seemed to lighten Lisaine's mood somewhat, and she smiled weakly.  
  
"But come! You have not heard my news!! Gandalf is returned from the passes beyond Imladris and he brings with him the King of Irwindal and three lords! I walked through the forest this morning when the army had left, and I thought to stay there, but I heard a plaintive and hideous cry, so unhappy and wretched that I sought to leave the woods at once. Some are saying that it was the cries of the forest Birch, the love of Imladris, all come to one at the leaving of the elven army. And as I walked on the forest road, a multitude of 5 horseman flew up behind me shouting, "Make way! Make way! The King of Irwindal comes forth to meet with Lord Elrond!" and as I stood to the side, Gandalf galloped past me, and then the king, with the banner of Irwindal unfurled in his very hand after, and three lords behind him, all bearing the marks of the Anduin kingdoms!! Your father is alive! Alive!"  
  
Lisaine's face had now turned ashen white, and she stared in utter disbelief. She could not have been more shocked by such news were it that Rakal had come to Rivendell to surrender.  
  
"Is it true?" she gasped, "Can it be possible?"  
  
"I have been searching for you all morning and much of this afternoon, where have you been?"  
  
Lisaine's countenance now changed to pure joy and excitement. Running to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, she flung it open and pulled out her gown, now cleaned, and the small swatch of linen that still contained her tiara and her father's royal signet ring. She closed her eyes, hugging them.  
  
"Please help me Alnein!! I must go to him at once! Surely he thinks me dead as I did him! I must dress myself at once, so that I might present myself to him as a princess. So that he knows me for myself!"  
  
Alnein smiled and helped Lisaine pull off her elven gown. The dress that Lisaine had worn the night she escaped from Irwindal was far more ornamented than the plain brownish gray gown of the elves. The dress had been re-stitched where it was torn. Pearls and rubies dotted along the bodice, though stones were missing in several places. As she pulled it over her head, she caught sight of the Nissalos gown and veil that Alnein had given her, and she bent down to pick them up, suddenly remembering the events of the past several days.  
  
"No," she thought to herself, "This is not right. I will go as I am." Lisaine placed the ruby and pearl laden gown back into the chest. Then, she pulled her own elven gown back over her head.  
  
"What is it?" said Alnein, "Come get dressed!!"  
  
Turning to Alnein, Lisaine smiled again.  
  
"I am his daughter," said Lisaine, "But I will not abandon the gifts that the elves have bestowed upon me. You and I have much to talk about, but I must tell you later! Now I must seek out my father! I will wear my elven gown, that will be enough."  
  
Quickly securing the gown, Lisaine grasped Alnein's hand in excitement, and the two maidens quickly made their way out the door to Lord Elrond's council chambers.  
  
Lisaine ran up the steps so fast that Alnein, close behind her, could hardly keep up. A new and vibrant energy seized the young princess, and she ran forth, unable to control her enthusiasm and delight. Running through the long open hallway, the princess could hear the monotone voices behind the heavy doors before her. She shoved them open, and ran into the chamber, crying,  
  
"Father! Father!"  
  
All conversation in the room stopped, as she excitedly looked about. But the smile left her face as she espied instead her uncle, Lord Hollein, sitting in the council circle, her father's crown resting upon his head. Lisaine and her uncle stared blankly at each other. Lord Elrond, clearly annoyed, stood up as two tall elves came running up behind Lisaine and Alnein to escort them away. One put his hand on Lisaine's shoulder, but she angrily brushed it aside and stood her ground. Before Lord Elrond could speak, Gandalf stood up.  
  
"No, Lord Elrond. Let her stay. For this is Lisaine. Daughter of King Gillindon of Irwindal."  
  
Lord Elrond slowly sat down, surprise and wonder upon his face, and sent away the two elf guards behind the women with a wave of his hand. One of the lords who had come with Lord Hollein sat scrutinizing Lisaine. Another jumped to his feet.  
  
"What manner of trickery are you attempting of us Gandalf? Would you have us believe that this wench is the queen of the combined cities kingdom? We all know that King Hollein is the only surviving heir of the attacks that have besieged us. Our purpose in this council is not to decide what we already know to be truth. We have no time for your games."  
  
"Yes," raged another, "We have come here for help of the elves, and you instead have led us into trap to confuse us."  
  
"I lead no one into a trap," Gandalf snapped, irritated by the man's comment, "You have come here of your own accord. I have only helped bring you here. I boast of no other involvement. And now you would be willing to tear apart your unity when one more truth is laid at your feet. No salvaging of a kingdom is so easy, my lords. There are many truths in this world, and equally as many deceptions. If your hearts do not seek the truth, then you have only yourselves to blame for your entrapment."  
  
Gandalf spoke to the group as a whole, yet he gazed directly at Lord Hollein. The first lord, still seated, looked angrily beyond Gandalf.  
  
"Lord Elrond. If you will not send this woman away, we have no more business here. The king of Irwindal sits before you. The old king was a fool in allowing Rakal's army to continue unopposed into the north and plunder all at his whim. The new king would lead us to restoring our homelands, and if you let this woman counter what we have thus far managed to accomplish, the army we have assembled will fall apart, for they will not follow such questionable leadership. To permit this accusation in our company is treason, and an act of war!" Lord Hollein remained silent. His entire attention not focused upon the argument, but upon Lisaine. Gandalf laughed.  
  
"Lord Beildan, you can hardly claim war against the elves with such a pilfering band of men. Surely you have other foes that need more conquering right now besides those whom you seek to be your allies." Flustered, the man said nothing and sat back in his chair, but clearly quivered in anger at Gandalf.  
  
Until now, Lisaine and Alnein had remained silent. In all her life, none had ever been as disrespectful to the princess as this stranger, yet the dire circumstances she found herself in and the noble company of the room kept her from speaking. But the insults thrown at her father's memory were more than she could withstand. Stepping into the chamber, Lisaine bowed her head to Lord Elrond, who nodded in return. Then she walked directly to the first man who had spoken. She stood there before him, searching for the right admonishment. But her anger took over the better part of her judgment and she suddenly found herself slapping his face. Leaping to his feet, he began to draw his sword. Lord Elrond leaned forward in his seat, quite alarmed at the unfolding confrontation, but Gandalf sat calmly watching the whole scenario with wrapped amusement, an impish smile upon his face. Lisaine instantly drew her silver dagger from her waistband, and deftly cut the man's sword hand with the white elven blade, causing him to cry out and loosen his grip. Stepping forward, she placed her tiny foot in between the large man's legs, with her heel propped against his foot. Then lunging in, she forcefully pushed the man with her shoulder, completely throwing him off his balance. He fell backwards into his chair with a loud thud. The delicate wooden chair held his weight for a moment, and then broke apart under the strain. He fell onto the floor, dazed. Leaping over him, Lisaine wrenched the hilt away from his hand by bending his forearm inward, and then drew the sword from its scabbard herself. She cast the weapon aside, while holding her own dagger to the man's throat, the edge of the shining blade just below the man's chin. The man froze.  
  
"So," mused Gandalf, "The skills of the princess of Irwindal come to light at last. Your father once told me of your sword training, but until today, I have never seen it."  
  
"Enough!" ordered Lord Elrond standing up, "There will be no fighting, Gandalf! Nevariel, release him at once! We are not enemies here!"  
  
Hearing Lord Elrond's stern words shook her, and Lisaine seemed to recover herself. She lowered the weapon and took several steps backwards. The man sat up immediately, his face red. Still holding his hand in pain, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and limped over to pick up his sword.  
  
"It proves nothing," he snarled while glaring at the princess.  
  
"You are correct in that, at least," Lisaine said coldly, "Mere skill with a blade does not make me a princess, but if you will allow me, I can prove myself to you." Returning the elven dagger to her belt, Lisaine turned to Lord Hollein, who sat motionless and rigid.  
  
"Uncle. I know not how you survived the fray that night, but I am glad to find you alive. I came here because I thought my father was in this company, but now I see that, in thinking all your kin were dead, you have rightly assumed my father's place on the throne. But as you can see, I am alive as well. And I now stand before you, and beg you to give testament to these men at who I am by right and my heritage, because I know them not."  
  
All eyes in the room fell to Lord Hollein as he looked at her up and down. The only break in the silence was the rush of the falls outside Lord Elrond's windows, and a bird, somewhere in the nearby trees, singing gaily. Lisaine stood tall before him, her shoulders held back.  
  
"You look as my niece," he said slowly, "but I cannot be sure. You have changed much, if indeed you are my niece. But much has occurred since that wretched night, and my memory plays tricks upon me."  
  
Until that moment she had always admired and respected her uncle, but now he seemed changed somehow. A dark pall was upon his face. Gone were his lighthearted smiles and gentle voice, and he now became almost guttural in his conversation. His eyes were dark and foreboding, his looks haggard. But in her mind, the princess attributed this to their mutual ordeal.  
  
"He does not see himself so changed, yet he is very different somehow," she thought to herself.  
  
Indeed, he looked like her uncle on the outside, but his personality seemed not to be his own. Lisaine could not help but wonder if he saw the same changes and differences as he looked at her now, and could not quite decide that she was indeed his brother's only daughter or no. Reaching into her waist satchel she said,  
  
"We, both of us have changed much since our last parting uncle, but if you cannot know me at my face, perhaps you can remember this." Pulling out the royal signet ring of Irwindal, Lisaine held it up for everyone to see. Low gasps and murmurs filled the room as Gandalf merely smiled at her approvingly.  
  
"Here is the ring of Irwindal," Lisaine said in a loud voice.  
  
"None but the rightful king," she paused and looked directly at her uncle, "or Queen may possess this ring. I am princess Lisaine, daughter of King Gillindon."  
  
Lord Hollein's face changed slightly at the sight of ring, and then he gazed back at Lisaine, but made no answer to her. Immediately, the lord sitting to the left of Lisaine's uncle left his seat, and knelt down in front of her, his head bent to his knee.  
  
"Your majesty. I am Lord Kellindle of Euphratas. And this is Lord Arkon and Lord Beildan of Tuluth. Although we have never met, I knew your father, and recognize your father's ring at once. I believe you beyond doubt, for your father would never have parted from this ring to anyone, save you. You are the rightful queen of the combined kingdoms of Euphratas, Tuluth and Irwindal of the great river valley, and I am your servant, and to you I swear my allegiance. Happy this day is to find you alive, your highness."  
  
Lisaine glanced over at the other two. Slowly, one left his seat and knelt before her, but glanced sideways at Lord Hollein, who was clearly perplexed at the situation unfolding before him. The third lord, whom Lisaine had disarmed, refused to submit, and angrily took to another empty chair within the circle.  
  
"Gandalf," Lisaine said severely, "I did not come here looking for a kingdom, only my father."  
  
"What you look for is sometimes entirely different from what you will find...to good or evil," the wizard said. Lisaine gazed into Gandalf's ancient eyes, and thought that perhaps he knew of Legolas and all that had transpired in the last few days. Seldom were secrets kept long from him, but to his credit, he said nothing.  
  
"Alas!" Gandalf continued, "Your loving father is dead my child, and now you find yourself not so alone in your company as you have previously thought. Your rightful place now is at the throne of Irwindal."  
  
"I did not come here to claim a throne," she repeated glaring back at Lord Beildan, "But none shall deny me my very name!"  
  
Lord Kellindle lifted his head to her, fear gripping him.  
  
"But your majesty! You MUST come with us! We have assembled a small army of 400 men. This is all that remains of the kingdoms of the valley. Most of the survivors were away from the towns and cities as they were being sacked, either traveling by the river or along the river trails. Every able- bodied man was found, and is ready to do battle to retake our kingdoms, which were left by the evil one's army to rot and disappear from the world. Even now they await word of this council. If we may receive help of the elves, we might retake our kingdoms and rebuild. Rakal has left with the vast multitude of his warriors, and leaves but few sentries in the valley. It will encourage all who fight to see the princess of Irwindal, escaped from Rakal's very clutches. Everyone thought you were dead."  
  
"You can hope for no aid from the elves," Elrond said grimly. All attentions turned to him. "At this moment the greater host are marching to engage Rakal's army in defense of the city of Isodor. I can spare no warrior in defense of the Anduin valley."  
  
"Then we will waste no more time here," said Lord Beildan walking towards the doorway, "I told you this was a fruitless venture. Let us gather our army in the pass and retake our lands ourselves." The other two lords followed suit and began towards the long hallway. But Lisaine jumped to the doorway, blocking their exit.  
  
"Wait!" she cried, stepping in front of Lord Beildan. He stopped abruptly, now seeming to tower before her, and Lisaine felt a sort of determination that she had rarely felt before. Alnein stood to the side, perfectly willing to let everyone leave. But an urgent and sudden realization came to Lisaine, and all at once she had decided to attempt to sway the valley Lords to a different direction.  
  
"I would say to you now my Lords, do not return to the river valley, which will be only a short-lived triumph. Our peril should be better spent for the common good. I say as your rightful queen, let us not vie for the Anduin valley and ultimate defeat, but make all haste to defend the elven city of Isodor." Another long silence ensued in the room, as this new proposition was laid before them.  
  
"You may be a queen," Lord Beildan said trying to constrain his anger, "But you are no general. Would you spend what few people we have left in defense of the elves, who refuse to come to our aid? We cannot hope to defeat the Dark Lord's evil minions out in the open! It would be a massacre. If we retreat now, we can take back our fortresses and regroup against Rakal, if he should ever return. Then you may sit on your throne and sew your needlework."  
  
"SILENCE FOOL!" Lisaine bellowed. Lord Beildan jumped back away from her, unnerved by her powerful voice.  
  
"Irwindal was no village, Lord Beildan! The fortress alone maintained 1,000 men when the city was overcome and destroyed in but a few hours. What are you thinking that a mere 400 then might retake and keep three such fortresses against Rakal's return? He leaves you alive only because he thinks you are dead. When he realizes that men have reappeared in any of the cities, he will return and wipe you out at his leisure. But together, our army and the elves in alliance, we may defend the elven city of Isodor from the same destruction that we have suffered in the valley."  
  
Lord Beildan's expression changed and he blinked, gazing at her. He knew in his heart that there was some truth to Lisaine's words. There was little hope of keeping the valley kingdoms with so few men. If the orc army returned before they could fortify their positions, they would easily be overtaken. Her imploring eyes captivated the lords standing before her, and they listened intently as she poured forth her arguments to them.  
  
The lords of the valley were not the only ones hovering upon every word of her discourse. Lord Elrond's interest was peaked also. He had not anticipated help to the elven city by the very people that he had turned away. He could not have achieved such a pact between elves and men himself, not with these men. The cold truth was that the elves, superior in skill against the approaching orc army as they were, would be sadly outnumbered. But this single, diminutive exile was turning the tide of a decisive war before it had begun, before his very eyes. And suddenly a silent, small glimmer of hope came to his expression, where before there was none.  
  
"We fight not for mortals to live once again in our own lands, my lords, but for all manner of beings, the privilege to live in any land. Once Rakal overtakes Isodor, he will come for Rivendell, and so continue until all men and elves are wiped out. Only then will his master, the Dark Lord, release his hordes from Mordor to finish what Rakal has started, and so enslave all creatures to his service. Can you not understand his purpose and speed in this? Rakal can do nothing without the permission of the darkest one who sits in the dark, high mountain. The great ring is lost to him now, and he would rely on stealth and numbers to overtake all the land, if he can. Do you think he gives up his quest merely because he has not ALL his powers available to him? Can you not see it? Indeed, I think the Dark Lord sits and waits to see at what point Rakal and his army will be driven back, as a test to the strength of the free kingdoms of Middle-Earth. He has destroyed the valley kingdoms first to make way for everything behind, and now he comes to the elven lands. I tell you now what the elves already know. Upon Isodor, everything depends. Rakal must be driven back; of this there can be no question. Only if we combine our forces may we hope to save all things from annihilation. Not mortal men only, my lords, but everything. Every living thing depends upon this one moment, this one test. Help your queen to destroy Rakal's army and send a message to the Dark Lord that the all the free lands cannot yet be taken with even his most evil creatures. Give to him a taste of utter defeat and he will perceive that he has not yet contrived enough power to win over all of Middle-Earth to darkness. Is that not worth battle in the forests of Isodor? Is that not worth our very lives?"  
  
The tension inside the chamber was profound, and all was silent. Somewhere from behind Lord Beildan, Lisaine's uncle suddenly appeared before her. He stood there and then knelt to the ground on one knee. The other Lords glanced back and forth at one another, and then followed suit.  
  
"My niece you are," Lord Hollein said solemnly, "None but my brother's daughter would have such fierce conviction and acuity. I am at last convinced and step down as king to the rightful sovereign of the combined kingdoms. To you I pledge myself until the end of your days."  
  
Holding out her hand, Lisaine's uncle kissed her hand, but his touch felt cold and barren to her, and she gazed into his lifeless blackened eyes. Alnein had said nothing during the entire council. But now as she gazed at Gandalf, who stood behind the gathering, leaning against his long wooden staff, she sensed a kind of misgiving about the whole situation within him.  
  
"Now then, my lords," said Lisaine, "Where is this army exactly, and how long will it take to get them?"  
  
"I can answer that, your majesty." said Gandalf, "Even now they have come across the high pass to Imladris. For they hope to obtain aid from the elves and whatever arms and horses they may."  
  
"Upon our weapons you may rely," Lord Elrond interjected, "but there are few horses to spare. Most left with the defenders this morning."  
  
"It will not matter," said Lisaine turning around to leave the chamber, "The forest of Isodor is thick, and at least most horses will not fair so well for their keepers. We will need but 5 horses Lord Elrond, for the lords of the valley and myself. Let us ride within the hour!"  
  
Gandalf smiled approvingly as they filed out the door. Speeding towards the stables, Alnein set off to alert the horse master that additional steeds were now needed. The princess seemed to find new purpose, and she strode fast and strong back to her chamber. Minutes later she emerged and went directly to the armory to find such a weapon and mail as she might obtain. She did this more for its appearance than for her own protection, feeling that at first sight, the men of the valley kingdoms must see her as a warrior, a leader. To defend the city she was resolute, but for her part of a queen, she was less certain. In Rivendell, her life was happy. Her whole existence there was based upon a desire for the ordinary. In previous years she had relied on Rivendell to save her from the stuffy confines of her father's house, filled with servants and such people as would oversee her every action. Here in Imladris there was blessed normality. Instead of being a pinnacle to those around her, it was she who could strive to rise to the level of the immortal and beautiful elves. Now she found herself in the very capacity that she had sought all her young life to escape, not even knowing if she could fulfill all she had promised. A heavy responsibility was suddenly laid upon her, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to risk all that was left of all the valley kingdoms. But of one thing she was certain, if she did not help, all of Isodor and Imladris would befall the same fate as her own lands. As a gleaming mail of silver was pinned over her gown, she began to drift away to the previous night. Of Legolas's bright eyes, of his tender touch, of their farewell, of her tortured moments when he left. Looking down at herself, she straightened a sleeve. Her resolve began to strengthen, and she pursed her lips. In whatever small way she could, she would come to aid of the elves.  
  
An elf with a long, serious expression walked up to her and held out a small handled sword, richly ornamented with green stones on the hilt. She swallowed and faltered before gripping the hilt with her tiny hand. Immediately the elf pulled back on the sheath and uncovered the brightly polished silver blade. She looked at it as if she were a child again, looking up at her first pony.  
  
"Lord Elrond requested that you take this sword with you," he said. Stepping in, he tightly wrapped the sword belt with its sheath attached around her waist. It was perhaps too tight, but Lisaine remained silent in front of the elf, thinking that she would have time to adjust it later. Upon her head remained her golden diadem, and on her forefinger was her father's ring. Finally, being so clad, Lisaine walked outside and into the courtyard where her uncle and the valley kingdom lords waited on newly acquired horses. Also there, astride her gray mount, and holding the reins of another horse, was Alnein.  
  
She was clad in silver mail, a long leather quiver of arrows tied to her back. In her free hand she held a long bow of Mirkwood. The princess placed one delicate foot in a stirrup and pulled herself atop of her mount. Gathering up the reins in her hands, Lisaine looked over at her friend.  
  
"Alnein, there is no constraint upon you to accompany me," Lisaine said, "The road will be long and dangerous, and I do not know what hardships await us before we are through."  
  
"You need my bow," Alnein replied with a solemn look, "Each one of us must make a decision to come together for the good of all, or lay by the wayside, and wait for evil to fall upon us. I cannot let you go into this totally friendless. Besides, perhaps I will be saving my mother somewhere in Isodor by my actions."  
  
"I go not into this battle friendless," Lisaine said, "But if you will go, I will not dissuade you."  
  
Then turning to Lord Elrond and Gandalf, Lisaine bowed her head and received theirs in return. Gazing at the wizard, Lisaine said,  
  
"Gandalf, will you not go with us?" He smiled gently, shaking his head.  
  
"No my dear, I will be better put to use here. Your father would've been happy to see you now."  
  
She was pleased at his words. Her father frowned upon many of the decisions that the princess made in her life, her keeping the forest close to the castle, her visits to Rivendell. It was pleasant for her to think that finally she could take an action to make her father proud. A slight grin came to her lips and she bowed her head once more, this time to Gandalf alone. Then, looking over the group of riders, Lisaine cried,  
  
"To Isodor all!" and spurring on her horse, galloped away with Alnein, her uncle and all the valley kingdom captains with her.  
  
The first day passed quickly, spurred on by the urgency to find the host awaiting the valley lords. Onward they galloped, until the waning sun forced them to set down for the night along the Bruinen. A cold mist covered the mountains, and its dampness penetrated every layer of cloth on the young queen. A small fire had been lit, and the group shared a meal of fruit and fish. Lords Kellindle and Beildan fell asleep quickly. Lord Arkon and Alnein tended the horses. Lisaine's uncle left to gather more firewood, and had just returned to the camp with a large armful of fallen limbs. Alnein gazed at Lord Hollein in the firelight as she polished her elven dagger. He rummaged through the wood, organizing the largest branches, and he seemed unaware of anyone. Beside Lisaine in the darkness was her elven belt that held her dagger and sword. The weight of the weapons was a drag upon her, and she felt relieved to remove them, if only for a short time.  
  
Staring into the crackling fire, Lisaine felt tired, but sleep would not come to her. All her thoughts were focused on the next day, when the company would meet up with the small army, and how she would handle herself. A sudden thirst drove Lisaine to stand. Wrapping her blanket tightly about her she glanced over to Alnein and Lord Arkon, who were feeding and watering the animals. She walked towards the river, which was only a short distance from the camp. Her face was covered in dust from the road, and she longed to wash her face in the cleansing water. Pushing through some brushes, she came to a small clearing among the trees, and there knelt beside a small area of rapids. Dipping her hand in, she was surprised by its cold touch. It seemed colder than in Rivendell, having no slate bedrock to warm the icy mountain water late into the evening. The river was deeper here, and black swirls of whirlpools danced in the moonlight. Looking up at the stars, her mind began to stray to Legolas again, and she wondered if perhaps he was looking into the sky at that same moment. A slight crack from a broken twig behind her jolted her back to reality, and whirling around she saw the vague outline of her uncle, coming up from behind her.  
  
"Uncle," she said standing quickly, "You should be back at the camp. It is very cold away from the fire."  
  
"I was worried of you," he said sweetly, "The banks along this river can be treacherous. You should have someone to accompany you when you wander to the water's edge."  
  
He took two more steps towards her, laying a cold, long hand upon her shoulder. Lisaine stood her ground and did not back away, but she shuddered at his touch, and longed for him to be gone from her company. There was something undeniably different about him, something she could not quite estimate exactly. His demeanor, though still kind and considerate was at the same time empty of feeling. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden crack whizzing by them, caught them both off guard. Instinctively, Lisaine jumped back, jerking her uncle's arm away from her shoulder as an arrow flew by in between them, not more than a few bare inches from each of their faces, and continued through a young sapling tree not more than five feet from them. Lord Hollein stared in the direction of the arrow, with a great redness of face, and then glared in its opposite direction, as Alnein, bow in hand, calmly stepped through a large pricker bush.  
  
"Forgive me," she said, "I heard rustling in the bushes here and thought there was a deer."  
  
Alnein walked up to Lisaine, who stared at her incredulous. As the elf spoke, she looked directly at Lord Hollein.  
  
"A little more caution would be wise for you, elf woman," he replied hotly under his breath, "You could have easily killed my niece or myself! It is late in the evening to be out hunting, is it not?"  
  
Alnein gazed at him, unruffled by his obvious displeasure.  
  
"No need to fret Lord Hollein," Alnein replied coolly, "Even as I released my shaft I realized that it was you and Nevariel. You were in no danger of being stung, unless, of course, you might have leaned in to grab her at that moment for some reason."  
  
"You are full of confidence when your quarry is unarmed!" he uttered angrily, "But I wonder how you would fare in such a quarrel with someone so armed as you!"  
  
Her uncle's hot words filled Lisaine with dread, and she ran up to her uncle, grabbing his arm.  
  
"No uncle!" she cried, "It was a mistake, I am sure! We are not injured! Let us not make more of this accident! Come, let us return to the warmth of the fire, for I grow cold, and tomorrow will be long!"  
  
Pulling on her uncle's arm, Lisaine stepped over the brush and drew him away from the area, looking back worriedly at the elf, who stood upright, bow in hand, staring at them as they left.  
  
Sputtering with fury as they approached the camp, Lord Hollein's anger over the near miss could barely be contained.  
  
"She is a danger to you Lisaine!!" he muttered, "You should send her away from us! How dare she say such words to us! This quarrel between her and I is not over!"  
  
Lisaine stopped short of the camp, lowering her head and sighing. Lord Hollein stopped abruptly with her.  
  
"Uncle," she implored, "It is a quarrel you cannot hope to win. She is elf- kind and trained well in bow and sword for low these last three thousand years. She need never miss a quarry unless she wishes it. Believe me uncle, if she meant harm to either of us, we would be dead now. Save thy anger for the battlefield, for I will need you there with me."  
  
"Whom will you trust?" he said in a softer tone now, "She is merely an elf, but I am your family. You are all I have left of my house. Will you not trust to me in this?"  
  
His tone became a little sadder, and he turned away from Lisaine to continue back to the fire. Standing there, Lisaine suddenly retraced her steps back towards the river. She was startled again as she nearly ran into Alnein returning to camp herself after retrieving the arrow. The two stood blocking each other's path. At length Alnein spoke,  
  
"Do not trust him," she said gravely, "Some great evil has befallen your uncle. I can see it with my elf eyes. His heart has a shadow hovering over it. Do not leave yourself alone with him."  
  
"Alnein, he is my uncle!" Lisaine said, "What am I to do then? Would you have me believe that my own blood is ill disposed towards me? He saved me from Rakal's very grip in the forests of Irwindal. But for him, I would not be alive today. I beseech you do not provide any further displays of thy prowess, unless it should be against the real enemy. Promise me. The race of men may react differently to such acts than another elf, and I would not have you provoke an old man who has lost everything."  
  
The elf's eyes gleamed bright blue in the moonlight, and no other feature of her face could be seen. The elf was clearly distressed. For the first time, Lisaine became unnerved by Alnein's stare. Looking hard at Lisaine, she continued,  
  
"It was a warning to him Nevariel, and he heard it well. Harken to my words, young queen! For I am your friend, and I swear to you, on your love for Legolas, that he is fallen into darkness somehow. A pall of doom surrounds him. Do not leave yourself alone with him!"  
  
The cold night air drove at Lisaine's tangled hair and her head sunk to her chest.  
  
"I know you are ever at my side Alnein. But I beg you, speak not to me of this again, or of Legolas, for the mere mention of his name tears at me. But for your help I could not have hoped for such a waking dream as I have lived these last days. Would that he were here with me now! I could be braver going to this war if I knew he were near! Alas, I too have sensed a difference in my uncle. He is perhaps sadder, more forlorn, and his appearance has changed much to me. But then how much different must I seem to him? He recognized me not even in Lord Elrond's house. Happy and carefree as my uncle and I once were, everything we held dear has been taken from us, and we are both changed for it. But beyond that I cannot believe. For your sake, I would agree to stay weary of Lord Hollein on this trip. But I beg you, please do not provoke him further, for he bears the pride of kings and we will need every warrior if our campaign is to be successful."  
  
The elf was silent, and her heart towards Lord Hollein remained as stone. But as Alnein walked slowly by Lisaine, she suddenly stopped and placed her hand upon Lisaine's arm. The young queen smiled to her friend, and it seemed to Lisaine that Alnein's eyes began to emanate a familiar, soothing light again. Lisaine's agreement for caution was the only satisfaction the elf would receive, and Alnein would have to accept it for the present. The two women made their way back to the camp, where all was now quiet.  
  
Eight days had passed since the elven host had left Imladris. Fearing no enemy, the nightly camps were settled with well-lit fires in damp cold of the mountain foothills. But the fogs had little effect on the elves, who could bear the unforgiving mountain elements better than mortal beings. While Lisaine and her companions (all save Alnein) huddled before a bonfire, wrapped tightly within their blankets during the bitterly cold autumn nights, the elves merely walked about their camps unconcerned of the weather, tending to horses or weapons. Legolas said little during the march. Some great confusion was upon his mind. Some grievous weight that he had never before encountered was troubling him. Kerrinais could see it.  
  
Seldom without his weapons, this final night before coming to Isodor, Legolas placed his bow and quiver and two white knives beside his pack. He ran his slender fingers along the edge of Menea, closing his eyes and whispering an elvish prayer, a wish that Illdinar's spirit had found the end of its travels over the seas. Slowly approaching from behind, Kerrinais spoke to him.  
  
"You are thinking of our friend," he said softly. Legolas placed the shining blade within its new sheath that was made for him in the forges of Imladris. He laid it beside his own knife, and stood up.  
  
"Yes," he said looking into a fire, "Illdinar was a good companion. It is hard to see such times, when an immortal friend falls to a merciless foe. You and I deal with all encompassing death in every battle Kerrinais, and when we see the death of our enemy, it does not taint us. But when death touches its icy hand to a friend, it is hard to accept. It is hard for me to understand that he will not be with us anymore until we make that journey ourselves, and perhaps never."  
  
Lowering his head, Kerrinais placed his hand upon his chest and quickly spoke an elvish prayer. Finishing, he looked again at Legolas.  
  
"But that is not all," he said with sympathy, "Some other thing troubles you besides Illdinar, I can tell. You have not been yourself since we left Euphratas, yet I perceive that there is some other thing that weighs upon your mind. It is not the impending battle, you have seen a thousand such battles, and they no longer trouble you."  
  
Legolas smiled briefly, and then a small frown crossed his face.  
  
"Kerrinais," he paused, "Have you ever...loved before?"  
  
The question took Kerrinais completely by surprise. This sort of remark, coming from an elf, especially Legolas who had never displayed any favor to a female before, astonished him. He blinked several times, thinking back on his long life before answering. Such things were seldom discussed between the elves. Kerrinais was not sure how to reply.  
  
"Well...no," he said at last, "Perhaps I was once long ago. I thought I was. But she was not a Mirkwood elf, and did not wish to stay in the Northern woods to be set down with hearth and home and children, and left on a quest and did not return." His voice trailed off. He tried to constrain himself to only certain happier memories, and not remember others. All at once, he lifted his head, amiably dismissing it.  
  
"Besides," he grinned, "She was very close to my house, and a union between us would not have been possible. But to me, more beautiful she could not have been were she Luthien or Arwen. She is happy now, and I am as content. That is the closest I came to love."  
  
"But," Legolas implored, "When you thought you loved, how could you tell?"  
  
"You ask the wrong one," Kerrinais answered glancing downward at the length of shining braid attached to Legolas's belt, "I only came close to love once, but never possessed it. I would say this to you Legolas, when you look upon the stars in the sky at night and wish for her presence or when you see her face wherever your eyes can look. And if you can long for her touch or her voice, and all the woodlands are better around you because of her, then I believe you have loved."  
  
Legolas stared at his friend, and seemed to be shaken by Kerrinais's reply. Kerrinais felt that he somehow had not helped him. He knew Legolas was looking for some kind of other answer to the question and he simply could not provide the solution. Such things were difficult for the elves to understand, and generally an elf decided upon a mate much sooner in their long lives than this. Trying to recall when he had seen his friend with anyone while they were in Rivendell, Kerrinais decided the riddle was not worth the trouble of solving when so many other grim realities were at hand. He returned to the largest bonfire, 20 feet away, and began to speak to Hanthenar of the coming day. Legolas stood watching Kerrinais before turning to walk into the woods alone, singing softly.  
  
On the ninth day the troop arrived at the Bruinen Loudwater. They turned south for a short distance towards the angle, where Isodor sat to the east of the great river. Cresting a rocky ridge, the forward troops stopped and gazed southwards. From their vantage point atop the foothills, they could see a great plume of smoke rising somewhere north of the Hollin ridge region.  
  
"Rakal's army progresses quickly," said Balanthos grimly, "We shall barely have time to cut them off before they come to Isodor. We will have no time to deepen the defense within the fortress before the destroyer comes to battle."  
  
"Then let us make all possible speed and engage our foe before he reaches the outer borders!" ordered Menarn.  
  
"It will put us at a disadvantage on the open plain," said Kerrinais loudly, "They will fair worse if we battle within the forest boundaries. Let us meet them within the woods, where the power of the defenders might be stronger!"  
  
Balanthos quickly looked to all the elven lords, and received a nod from each. Then spurring his mount, he trotted to the regiment leaders behind them, banners unfurled and flying in the strong winds that came sweeping across the plain. He yelled to them in elvish, the sound of tapping chest armor rose over the hills, two-thirds of the host led by Balanthos, Menarn, Hanthenar, and Marsanganion left.  
  
Those on foot sped away, past Legolas and Kerrinais, leaving the remainder of the host on horseback as a second wave of attack. The battle of Isodor had begun.  
  
Through the dense wood, Rakal's front soldiers moved slowly. The thickets and ravines were difficult for their horses, for they were only used to running on the plains in open battle. Heavy armor on the horses caught on tree limbs and in bushes, ripping at their sides, causing them to whinny and moan.  
  
"Why do we have to go this way?" grumbled one slumped in his saddle, "By the time we get there, they all would have died of old age!"  
  
"Shut up!" came an enraged voice from behind, "Orders are we go this way. Maybes we'll see some elveses lurking in the woods that we cans kills. They won'ts all bees in the cities!"  
  
The first orc grumbled something under his breath, when a long shaft suddenly struck him squarely in the chest. He yelped briefly, before toppling over.  
  
"Attack!" screamed the next orc, "Kill them!"  
  
A hail of arrows flew over the orcs in every direction as the elves jumped from their hiding places to engage their enemy. Many of the orcs on horseback fell from their mounts, as the terrified animals reared up on their hind legs and bolted. From behind the flanks, a solid wave of hissing and shrieking orc soldiers ran past the front guard, swords flailing and crashing onto the elven defenders. The elven lord Balanthos, having spent every arrow, now swiftly reached back to gather his sword, but before he could release it from its sheath, a large orc, howling hideously, ran up beside him, thrusting his sword through the elf's neck. Blood gushed from the open wound as the elf instantly fell to the ground, his hand still clutching the sword. The orc stood howling in victory, waving his own weapon about in the air, before a stray orc arrow pierced his back, and he reeled and fell beside Balanthos. Such screaming and shrieking as was never heard in those woodlands continued, as more and more orcs plunged into the battle, enraged by the very thought of opposition. Then a loud yell, guttural and deep hissed:  
  
"To the city! Destroy the city!"  
  
A cavalry of orcs on horses immediately broke from the fighting, and continued around the main battle, unfettered. The main host of elves was completely involved with those that were on foot. Breaking the tight quarters of the forest, the orcs whipped their beasts to make haste towards the defenseless city. They made no effort for silence, and they shrieked and screamed as they approached. Cresting a grassy hill, not a 1/4-mile from the forest edge, they were met by another hail of arrows from the elves that had lingered behind, led by Legolas and Kerrinais. The elven line of horses stretched horizontally along the entire embankment. Each elf, firing his arrows at will found its way to every orc as they covered the hillside, one after another dropping from their mounts. Some orcs broke away again, and managed to ride along the side of the embankment, attempting to cut down the elven line from behind. Clanking swords and armor echoed over the plains, as the elves fought on horseback. Legolas spurred Neonean, looking to see where Kerrinais was in the battle.  
  
He saw a large orc run up to Kerrinais's horse and thrust his sword into its side. The horse cried out and fell, dropping his rider with him. The two rolled down the steep hill. Legolas instantly cried to Kerrinais, who was scrambling to get on his feet, the orc laughing with its foul jagged teeth glittering in its hideous mouth. The beast raised his sword high above Kerrinais's head to strike. In the clouds of dust, Legolas spurred Neonean on, clinging onto the galloping horse with only his legs. He reached behind his back and deftly drew Menea from its sheath. In a fraction of an instant, Neonean ran full tilt past the orc. Its head fell clean off its shoulders at Kerrinais's feet. Then spurring his horse about, Legolas galloped back to Kerrinais, his arm extended. The elf grasped tightly onto Legolas's outstretched hand pulled himself onto Neonean's back, as another rider approached them. Kerrinais spun himself around, now facing backward as he drew his sword and crossed blades with the orc rider. Another rode up to them, cutting off Neonean's gallop. Legolas twirled his gleaming elven blades with both hands as he and the second orc rider fought.  
  
"A horse!" Kerrinais yelled to Legolas, "I need a horse!"  
  
"What about one of these?" Legolas yelled back, his elven blade clanging against the screaming, infuriated beast. The howling monster that Kerrinais fought now attempted to stand in his saddle. Unsteady as his mount was, he was clearly meaning to jump and take the elves off Neonean's back. Kerrinais swiftly kicked a leg at the horse, which jerked back, dislodging the orc with a thud back into its saddle.  
  
"An orc horse?!" Kerrinais shouted back, "I would rather not! Is there no Rivendell horse about?!"  
  
Legolas glanced up across the grassy field where the fighting continued until he spied a riderless Rivendell horse. Slashing one last time, Legolas felled the orc blocking their path and Neonean galloped past the newly dead creature. The rider that Kerrinais had been fighting gave chase. Kerrinais pulled out a short elven dagger from his belt and threw it with such strength and ferocity that the blade whined as it sailed threw the air, piercing the beast threw a leather face coverlet. It screeched, dropped its sword and held onto its face, before falling to the ground. The Rivendell horse remained still when Neonean galloped up alongside it. Kerrinais leaped lightly onto its back and gathered its reins in his hand. Below the steed on the ground, was a fallen elf, the horse's master. The elf's lifeless eyes stared blankly skyward. Kerrinais looked at the dead elf with a brief sense of pity, before gazing back at Legolas.  
  
"Take better care of this one!" Legolas yelled spurring Neonean about. Kerrinais nodded and the two rode off in different directions to continue with the battle.  
  
After some time had passed, the brunt of the orcs riding upon the grassy knoll were overcome. However, the fierce battle in the forest continued. Legolas signaled to several riders to follow him into the forest, and 25 horses broke from the fight and sprinted away with Legolas. Neonean whinnied and sprinted, her blood stained mane and tail flying in back of her as though the wind were holding them in place. A number of elves, including Kerrinais, remained behind to combat what remained of the orc detachment. In the forest, the elven horses, being reared in the forest haven of Rivendell, had little trouble traversing the broken terrain. Yet several riders decided to dismount and leave their horses away from the main siege. The battle had progressed much during the time that the elven horse riders were engaged in the open. The broken bodies of orc mingled with elf were strewn in every flat clearing, in every ravine. Spent blood trickled into every stream, mutating the clear water with an eerie red appearance. The battle now spread over a greater distance in the forest, for some of the enemy had turned in their sudden cowardice and sought to go around the onslaught, only to be pursued and cut off. Still, this had a damaging effect on the elven army, which was now thinly spread throughout the forest. A full third of the elves were now killed, including Hanthenar and Marsanganion.  
  
Legolas rode deeply into the siege, his bow in hand. The long brown and gray shafts of Mirkwood flew to their appointed marks, one after the other, dropping each prey where it stood, until his quiver was spent. Jumping down from Neonean's back, Legolas grabbed his two elvish white knives from their sheaths, spinning them in his hand so that only the barest outline of the blade could be seen. In an instant, satisfied with his final grip, he lunged forward alongside his brethren and began hand-to-hand combat with renewed fervor. Such was Legolas's skill and speed that no orc could overcome him. With each quarry felled, Legolas looked wildly about, before engaging the next. Although the elves were superior in strength and skill, Rakal's army was superior in numbers. For every orc that fell, two more seemed to take its place.  
  
The struggle continued on, and the number of elves left fighting, dwindled. Kerrinais and ten more riders joined the combat, but it was not nearly enough. There simply were not enough elves remaining, and they were slowly being eliminated. Even Kerrinais was beginning to tire and felt the hopelessness of the situation. He spied Legolas in the distance, fighting two creatures at once, their heavy blades clanging against Legolas's red stained knives. With a final brutal slash, Kerrinais felled the creature assailing him, and ran to help his friend. One orc whirled about as Kerrinais ran up to it, but before it could wield its sword, Kerrinais slashed its throat and it fell, blood gushing onto the leaves.  
  
"We are being overrun!" he shouted to Legolas.  
  
As if to answer his words, the clear, sharp sounding of the horn of Irwindal suddenly came whistling through the forest. A new barrage of horses and men flew past the amazed elves, being led by Lords Kellindle and Arkon, who shouted,  
  
"For Isodor! For Isodor!"  
  
Lisaine's army had arrived. Legolas and Kerrinais stared at each other for a brief moment, grinning, before they began yet another assault with renewed spirits. Help had come to the elves from the most unexpected quarter of all, the race of men. This time, the orcs, already battle weary from the elven armies, were slowly driven back. More and more bands of orcs broke away and began running through the woods, until at last the combat began to die away.  
  
Legolas, having dispatched his last adversary, gazed around. There was still much fighting within the area, but no longer enough of the enemy to set on him without a spare moment. He stood there breathing heavily. The white blades in his hands, dripping with blood and sinew, seemed suddenly of a great weight, and he let his arms fall to his sides, still gripping them tightly. He saw Kerrinais leaning against a tree, slumping over slightly, and he sprang over to him, concerned that he had been wounded. Running up to him, Legolas frantically turned his friend to face him and quickly checked him over for a wound, but there was none.  
  
"No," Kerrinais breathed, "I am unhurt. Just tired. The battle has been hard won, but won nonetheless." Legolas grinned, but his expression soon turned serious.  
  
"I have not seen Rakal," he said. Kerrinais shook his head.  
  
"He was not here during the battle or on the grasslands. I would have seen it for I too have searched for him. He must have taken another route. He must have eluded us."  
  
"There is no escape for Rakal," Legolas said soberly, "We must assemble what warriors we have left and finish him."  
  
The two elves stepped away from the tree when a red-bearded man on a brown stallion trotted up to them. They stood aside to let him pass, but instead he held back on the reins of the anxious steed, pulling it to a halt.  
  
"I am looking for Lord Legolas and Lord Kerrinais of Mirkwood," he said.  
  
"This is Legolas and I am Kerrinais," the elf replied. The rider dismounted and bowed before them, beads of sweat falling from his face.  
  
"I am Lord Kellindle. I am sent by Queen Lisaine of the combined kingdoms of the Anduin to seek you out. I am also bid by her highness to offer any help in your efforts to secure the elven sanctuary of Isodor against Rakal the Destroyer."  
  
Legolas stepped forward and put his hand on the large man's shoulder, an act of tribute to a recognized friend.  
  
"Your arrival here is welcome," Legolas said to him breathing hard, "But how came it that you knew of our plight? Indeed, how is it that there is anyone left in the Anduin at all, for Kerrinais and I have left the blue cities but a few weeks ago, and we thought there were no survivors." Looking down, Lord Kellindle spoke in a softer, sadder voice.  
  
"Many of our people perished in the attacks to be sure, but our queen survived, a true testament to her fortitude, and was only lately revealed to us. It was she who convinced the lords and the army to assail the Dark Lord's cursed forces here and not wait for Rakal to return to the valleys to finish what he had begun. There were but 400 or so of us left, and we banded together and marched across the high pass. The queen's uncle also being with us."  
  
"Your queen is of exceptional bravery to attempt such an act of friendship," said Legolas. Having only known Lisaine by her elven name, Legolas remained ignorant of whom Lord Kellindle spoke.  
  
"Indeed she is a courageous ruler," breathed Lord Kellindle, "She has ridden yonder into the deeper forest with her uncle and several advisors, and should return shortly. Until then, I am commanded to muster what men are left to me and follow the elven lords where they bid us to go."  
  
"We are to set out at once to find the orc captain," said Kerrinais, "Collect what men you have, and follow us. There are few places for Rakal to run, now that the greater part of his army is destroyed."  
  
"He will make for the fortress of Isodor," said Legolas, "For there is little defense there now, and with enough creatures, he might yet take it."  
  
Lord Kellindle bowed to Legolas and Kerrinais. Then taking his horse's reins, he hauled himself onto the animal and galloped off. Legolas looked around the carnage frowning. He blew a quick, low-pitched whistle, which was more like a song hummed. From out of the deep recesses of the forest, trotted Neonean, her eyes filled with gladness at hearing the call from her master. Returning his knives to their sheaths, Legolas spent a moment to tighten the sheath belt around his chest. It had grown wet with blood and the leather was now stretching. Then, surveying the ground, Legolas walked over a small distance and retrieved his Mirkwood bow. Turning it over and over, he ascertained that it was not broken in the fighting. He walked quickly about the battlefield, removing elven arrows from the dead orcs, and stuck them into his quiver, until it was once again full. Thus re- armed, he gripped Neonean's long mane and lightly hopped onto the mare's back, and prepared to depart. Kerrinais and others had similarly obtained more weapons, and all were now converging to the spot where Legolas impatiently waited.  
  
In the darkening forest, a small company walked along the edge of a small stream. Accompanying Lisaine was Alnein, and the valley Lords Bieldan and Arkon, and also Lisaine's uncle, Lord Hollein.  
  
"I do not like this, uncle" Lisaine called over to him from astride her horse, "We should be where the fighting is, they need every warrior."  
  
"When the fighting is over at last," he replied, "The people will need a ruler. It's better if we remain aloof here for the time being."  
  
Lisaine only frowned. The small party continued down a small hill. The stream they followed trickled over rocks and underneath fallen tree trunks. The forest grew somewhat denser as they progressed, but all could hear the noise of battle beginning to subside. Lisaine at last had decided to turn back and find the battle area, anxious in her mind to find Legolas. As she began to open her mouth to speak, she casually looked at Alnein and stopped short. The elf was looking wildly about in great alarm.  
  
"What...." Lisaine began. But she was unable to finish her sentence, for a great troop of orcs sprang from every direction, hidden behind the large trees.  
  
"A trap! A trap!" yelled Lord Arkon pulling his sword out. Unsheathing her dagger, Lisaine heaved it with all her strength at the first orc she saw. The blade landed squarely in the creature's neck. It fell to the ground with an anguished howl. The young girl thrust her heels hard into her horse's side, and it leaped into the air, but another beast with a gaping wide jaw had grabbed her leg and pulled the screaming girl off her horse before she could escape. Landing on a rock protruding from the ground, Lisaine uttered an agonized cry as she struggled with the laughing and hideous monster, his drool dripping down upon her face. Alnein deftly lifted her bow and felled the beast with an arrow even as she herself was knocked off her own horse from somewhere above. Alnein staggered to her feet, bleeding from a blow to her head, and then collapsed to the ground. Lisaine continued to scream as two more orcs pawed at her arms, finally subduing her. She frantically looked around only to see the lifeless bodies of Lord Arkon and Lord Beildon. All the struggling abruptly stopped as several hoof falls made their way calmly to the site. Lisaine looked up, and saw Rakal with three other orc riders approach. Lord Hollein, the only one remaining upon his horse, did not see their approach from behind.  
  
"Uncle! Uncle!" Lisaine screamed, "Behind you!"  
  
She watched in horror and disbelief as Rakal strode up to her uncle's side and stopped. Lord Hollein remained calm as Rakal dismounted and slowly made his way over to where she was held.  
  
"UNCLE!" she screamed.  
  
"I have kept my word to you," Lord Hollein said to him in a low voice as the orc captain sauntered past. It was almost incomprehensible for Lisaine to believe what she was hearing. She shook with anger as she realized that it was her own uncle that had arranged the ambush. Rakal walked up close to Lisaine and hissed under his breath. He grabbed her jaw with a massive, distorted claw and gazed at her with the same evil hatred that she had seen that night in Irwindal. She stifled a small whimper as the orc soldiers held her erect, a great pain in her right side stabbed at her. As he stepped back, he drew up his bow, fitted an arrow to it and aimed it point blank at Lisaine's face.  
  
"Wait," said Lord Hollein jumping from his horse. He stepped in front of Rakal and walked over to Lisaine, who still struggled fruitlessly against her assailants. He pried open her fingers and pulled the heavy signet ring from her left hand, holding it close to her face.  
  
"Only the King may wear this ring," he said sarcastically. Lisaine spit at him and continued to struggle. He wiped his face off and gazed at her with contempt.  
  
"Vile betrayer!" she cried, "You are my father's brother! How can you do this?! It was you who saved me that night in Irwindal!"  
  
"You are a halfwit!" he laughed, "I did not mean to save you that night! Did you not comprehend, after all this time, that it was I who led you to Rakal then as well?"  
  
She shook her head in disbelief. Lord Hollein stepped back, and Rakal drew forward once again. Lisaine looked directly into his black eyes, determined not to flinch or look away from her doom, but the creature lowered his bow and tightened his eyes, scrutinizing her again.  
  
"NO. I may have another use for YOU," he hissed laughing. Then he grew sober again. He turned around slowly and deliberately, and lifted his arrow at Lord Hollein, who drew back in horror.  
  
"But YOU," Rakal muttered in fury, "YOU I have NO more use for!"  
  
"But...but..." Lord Hollein cried dropping to his knees, "I have done as you commanded! I have brought you the last of the house of Gillindon!"  
  
"Yes, you brought me a queen," he seethed in fury, "And she brought an army with her to aid the cursed elves!! And it was YOU who told me she was dead before you discovered that she lived, you sniveling piece of flesh! You've failed me too many times!"  
  
"But, my lord," stammered Lord Hollein, "I didn't know there were any survivors! I tried to draw the stragglers back to the valley and away from Isodor! That was not my doing! It was hers! You promised me that I would be king!"  
  
"I didn't say how long you'd be a king, did I?" he grinned, his bloodied fingers pulling back on the bow. All at once, he released the shaft, and it flew directly through Lord Hollein's left eye. Blood spurted down his face as he fell over, lifeless. To this new horror, Lisaine closed her eyes, and looked away. When she opened them again, Rakal, was mounting his horse.  
  
"My Lord," hissed another orc bending over Alnein, "This one still lives."  
  
"Bring them," he growled, and kicked his horse. The horse whinnied and sped off into the forest. As Lisaine's hands were bound, she looked in the direction where Rakal was headed, and saw a great column of orc soldiers making their way through the woods towards Isodor. The foul stench of the creatures around her choked the air, and she coughed, blood trickling down her chin. She vaguely realized her side ached. Looking down, Lisaine could see a large stain of blood soaking into the fabric of her gown where she had struck her side on the rock. Then all went black.  
  
Even before her eyes opened again, Lisaine was coughing. She found herself, lying upon her side on a smooth, cold stone floor. Her hands were still tied in front of her, and she pulled at them weakly before giving up. Precariously lifting her head, she could see the outline of Alnein, tied likewise, sitting up, with her back leaning against the thick stone wall. One small rectangular window was the only source of light in the otherwise empty room. The sun's long rays stretched far into the recesses of the dreary chamber with a reddening glow. A musty smell of putrid leaking water and decaying mold permeated the room. The only fresh air to be breathed was afforded by the tiny window. A large door, laden with heavy iron brackets that attached it to the stone archway, was shut. The hands of men built the fortress long ago. It stood as a sanctuary for travelers, much the same as Imladris was a sanctuary. However, as the centuries slipped by, the castle was abandoned, its people migrating south beyond the mountain passes. Slowly, new inhabitants took over and dwelt sometimes within its dimmed walls, but mostly removed the vast woodlands beyond. Lisaine could now see Rakal's purpose in coming there first. Any survivors of the Anduin massacres would retreat there, and the elven defenses in and around the fortress were next to nothing. It would have been an easy target for Rakal. Now Lisaine and Alnein found themselves in the darkest regions of the ancient dungeon, where no elf or other being had strayed in 500 hundred years.  
  
Shifting onto her back, Lisaine struggled to sit erect. From somewhere beyond the dark door, the distinct sounds of moaning and shrieks could be heard. She looked over at Alnein, whose eyes were closed. Dried blood and dirt covered the length of her face and down her neck. A sizable cut in her forehead was clearly visible. The bruised skin around it was already turning blue.  
  
"Alnein," she whispered, "Are you alright? Where are we?"  
  
The elf slowly opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to gaze at Lisaine, and she smiled.  
  
"We have been brought to the small fortress of Isodor, which has been overtaken at last." Alnein said glumly.  
  
"The others are dead, Nevariel," she said with some pity, "I fear your uncle is dead too."  
  
"It was my uncle who betrayed us to Rakal," Lisaine replied somberly, "Rakal had promised him my father's throne." Alnein looked away.  
  
"Rakal will not give it to him," Alnein said slowly, "There is no promise he would keep. I doubt Rakal will let him live."  
  
"He is dead already," Lisaine grimaced, "I should have listened to you. A queen I am not, Alnein. I think a ruler would serve better when she at least knows who the enemy is."  
  
The elf turned her head back to Lisaine with some effort and managed a slight smile. Lisaine crawled over to her and began to untie her friends bonds.  
  
"At least we don't need these," Lisaine breathed, coughing a little more. The thick ropes peeled away from her wrists, and Lisaine held up her own. The elf glanced at Lisaine's side as she worked. At last Lisaine's hands were freed, the red ligature marks still emblazoned on her delicate arms. Alnein stretched out her hand to look at her friend's wound, but Lisaine pushed it away, shrugging her shoulders. Crawling back to where she was previously sitting, and with some effort, Lisaine finally turned herself so that she could face the wall. She pulled at a rip in the side of her dress to enlarge it. Sticking a hand inside, she pulled out a bloodied palm, examining it. Her face was pale and beads of sweat covered her forehead. She leaned forward and rested her head against the cold stone, closing her eyes. Alnein sat up watching her.  
  
"Nevariel, what are you doing?"  
  
"Nothing," she said sitting back suddenly, "I am unhurt. Just a small wound."  
  
Alnein gazed doubtfully at Lisaine, but there was little she could do to help her. Alnein whispered a prayer in elvish. Her words were soothing to Lisaine, even though the young queen could not understand the entire chant, and she presently felt somewhat better. Looking around the room, Lisaine crawled forward, lay down on the icy floor and closed her eyes. She felt weary, and wanted to rest. The mere effort of breathing became difficult for her, and her chest rose and fell quickly, as she gasped in short breaths. The elf closed her eyes as well, but suddenly opened them. Looking to the window, she sat upright, shaking Lisaine's shoulder. Half awake, half unconscious, Lisaine mumbled as her senses slowly came back to her.  
  
"What is it?" she whispered.  
  
"The alliance has come at last!" said Alnein.  
  
Struggling to her feet, she made her way to the tiny window. There, a column of elves and men were charging out of the forest. They clashed against the smaller resistance on the flat plain, before the fortress. As the sunlight waned, the fighting continued, and Lisaine drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Later, the sounds of stamping feet and the creaking door awoke her again. Five orcs poured into the room. Alnein fought with her aggressors, for she was relatively unhurt. In the confusion of the ensuing struggle, a large black-faced orc marched in and hit Alnein from behind several times before she was ultimately subdued. For Lisaine, however, there was little struggle left. She had lost much blood, and was teetering between wakefulness and unconsciousness. The two were shackled and dragged through another room, where three orcs sat at a table, tearing at a duck. As the women were dragged by, the orcs hollered and laughed, and threw pieces of bloodied meat, the feathers still attached, at their faces. Onward they were drawn up a tiny set of stairs, and then through darkened inner chambers. At last they were brought into a large wooden hall, and thrown roughly onto the floor. The chamber was as a great, enclosed dome, with interlaced beams of birch and white oak, ornately carved. At the center of the room was a semi-circle of tall backed wooden chairs, similarly carved as the wooden beams supporting the room. Looking above her, Alnein detected the faint clues of a recent struggle. At first sighting, the room seemed bright and untouched. Upon closer examination though, wayward arrows, stuck in the walls alongside telltale blood spatters could be seen. There in the center of the semi-circle, with red, hideous eyes, sat Rakal.  
  
He said nothing for a short time and Lisaine lay where she had been thrown down, unmoving. Then with a wave of his arm, two large orcs grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet to stand before him. The stench of blood and rotting flesh was heavy upon his black armor. Summoning the remainder of her strength, Lisaine lifted her head and stared at him contemptuously as she could. He seemed pleased with himself, grinning and hissing at his conquest. A queen of men standing debased before him. But though Rakal was a leader in his own right, he was, at the same time, a slave to the Dark Lord, and therefore was ever looking to gain more favor in his master's eye. Here then, Rakal saw an opportunity of sorts, to further Sauron's dark purpose and separate the races of elves and men. So he bade his servants to bring forth the prisoners from the dark hole. At last he stood, towering above her, gloating of his achievement.  
  
"I have something of yours," he cackled, throwing an object at her feet. Looking down, Lisaine saw the dismembered hand of her uncle, with her father's ring still attached. However, she did not cry or look away, but instead gazed back at Rakal with much hatred in her eyes. He spoke again to her, but now his voice seemed slightly more subdued.  
  
"You will be taken to the high wall and you will order your soldiers to stop fighting. You may yet be a queen and live to serve the Dark Lord. Do what I demand and your lands are restored to you in Sauron's service or leave now to your death. Be aware how you answer me will govern how many of your people will live today. If you do not join me, I will not leave one alive."  
  
Alnein glanced sideways at Lisaine, who stood erect, one hand holding her side. Lisaine glared at him.  
  
"You think yourself clever, vermin, but you are mistaken. I am no longer the frightened child you saw that night in the burning forest. And now you would be my ally and give me what is already in my possession. I will swear only this to you. You have neither my oath nor my allegiance. But I will give you my pity. Today I die a queen of my kingdom, having at last tasted love and honor. But not long after I am dead, you too shall be vanquished. The combined armies of men and elves will retake your meager stronghold this day, and you shall die knowing only that you failed your master in the most mundane of tasks. You accomplished nothing here!"  
  
And so enraged by her rebuke was Rakal, that he leaped towards her and struck her with such force as to throw her completely off the floor. She cried out as she landed on the ground beneath him. Grabbing her chains, he dragged her through the once noble hallways, up to the bloodied towers of Orfin, where Alnein and two other prisoners were also taken. On the battlement, before all her subjects, he lifted her with one hideous arm, the other at the ready with his sword. And knowing that her last moments were at hand, she remembered the beauty of the Irwindal forest, and her father's loving smile, and the beguiling beauty of her elven lord's face. Turning her head outward towards the raging battle below, Lisaine gave one final effort, and began striking Rakal's arm with her shackles, screaming loudly,  
  
"Legolas!! Legolas!!"  
  
Far beneath the battlement, on the hill of Aringsan, Legolas, Kerrinais and two other woodland elves held the vantage against all who assailed them. Each elf allowing an orc or creature climb to the top, thinking themselves victorious, when they would be utterly struck down by sword or arrow. Springing over the growing mound of bodies, Kerrinais or Legolas would thus come, retrieve and fit the self-same shaft to their bows that had smote a dozen others. Taking his deadly aim, Legolas pulled far back on the string, when suddenly to his ears came a faint, almost imperceptible cry. Hearing the sound, Legolas and Kerrinais both spun around and gazed up in the direction of the battlement. At the top of the wall, for all to see were the remaining prisoners. Legolas gasped, fixing his horrified stare to the defensive walk where Lisaine vainly fought to free herself from Rakal's iron grip. Instinctively, he summoned all his strength and pulled far back on the shaft in his hand, letting it fly towards the fortress, some few hundred yards away. Through the rising smoke it swathed its path, till at last it came to rest squarely in the eye of the great orc captain, Rakal, and without a sound he fell dead.  
  
Released of her captor, Lisaine staggered forward and grabbed onto the wall. She searched wildly to the battlefield, looking for Legolas, but she could not see him. Yet, she knew it was he who had killed Rakal. Now Iskal, one of Rakal's underlings quickly ran up to take his master's place. Grabbing Lisaine's hair, he pulled her head downward, as she struggled to grab the orc's legs and throw it off its balance. Iskal, however, was too large and heavy, and her attempts were in vain. She felt suddenly faint, and as darkness overtook her, she weakly turned her head to see Alnein's blank, empty stare, and she extended her hand in a final effort towards her friend. With a mighty laugh, the beast raised a long, orc knife, dripping with blood, and plunged it up to the hilt into her back. Then, heaving her over his head, he threw her off the high wall to the muddied ground below. Amidst a rain of arrows, the other orc underlings followed suit with the other prisoners, howling in anger that their leader was gone. From the battlefield, a half a dozen elves were aiming their arrows at the battlements in an effort to save what might be left of the hostages. But as one orc would fall, another would jump to its place and help to complete their terrible task, and it seemed there was no end to them. One-by-one, all were slain and left among the ruins on the wall, side-by-side with the vanquished Rakal.  
  
Thus, Lisaine, Queen of Irwindal, Princess and heir to the throne of Gillindon, ruler of the combined kingdoms of the Anduin valley was dead; as were Alnein, and all those taken to Isodor.  
  
But Legolas had not seen this. Even as Lisaine fell, the hill where Legolas stood was being overrun, and their attentions were diverted back to the battle. Legolas and Kerrinais had unsheathed their elven knives once more, while the others drew on their bows. The struggle continued until the last vestiges of sunlight filtered through the trees of the great forest. Now leaderless, the dwindling number of orcs began to flee the castle to the outlying forest. But this did not save them, for the elves and Lisaine's army pursued them far into the dark recesses of Tamlot. Legolas and Kerrinais however, were bent on finding their way into the fortress.  
  
The only entrance to the castle was a large oak drawbridge that spanned across a deep, dry ravine. Gaining entrance to the fortress interior would have been a problem, and in fact, had the orcs stood their ground, they might have continued the battle well into the night. But in their attempts to escape, the orcs lowered the bridge and left it open as they fled to the woodlands. True to Lisaine's foretelling, the castle was retaken that day, and the right hand of Sauron was destroyed, never to plague the free lands of Middle-Earth again, much to the Dark Lord's anger and misery.  
  
As night made its way across the purpling skies, Legolas frantically rushed through the castle with Kerrinais close behind, searching for Nevariel. Of the fortress they had but little knowledge, so they searched room to room, delving ever deeper into the dark abyss of the foul underworld of the castle. They sought out the rumored dungeons, supposing that if any prisoners were alive, they might be held captive there. The elves had not far to search. Down a tiny forgotten stone stair they advanced. Kerrinais followed closely behind Legolas. The stairwell being so small and enclosed it only allowed one person at a time. The stairs opened to a small room, now vacant of chains or instruments of torture. The elves knew that this had once been the room's purpose. Five heavy wooden doors stood before them, all closed. Resolute, Legolas walked to the first door and pushed it open. The door creaked as it gave way. At first, the black room did not betray anything in its interior. Drawing forth a single torch, Kerrinais thrust the flame into the darkness, and the vague rays of light shone into the far corners of the tiny room. Legolas took two steps into the chamber and froze. There on a far wall he saw a bloodstained handprint, small and delicate, perfect in its symmetry. Unable to look away, Legolas slowly and purposefully approached the wall, bending down on one knee. He touched the cold, wet stone with his outstretched hand, and there grief overtook him. For the first time in his ancient life, tears came to his eyes, as he realized Lisaine's purpose in leaving the message.  
  
Kerrinais crept up behind Legolas, and peered over his shoulder, holding up the torch to the stone. At once he understood his friend's anguish and sorrow. Fearing he would collapse in death at the ghastly sight, Kerrinais pulled on Legolas's tunic and cried,  
  
"Come! She may yet be alive!" and bade for them to depart. Legolas looked up and stared at Kerrinais, as though that one tiny ray of hope hadn't crossed his mind before. He sprang to his feet and ran out of the chamber. With bow and arrow in hand, Legolas made his way up the steep stairways, determined to lay to ruin all that he encountered, but none opposed him. Kerrinais followed closely behind, whispering to him to be cautious, but Legolas did not hear him.  
  
Finally they reached the high, great wall, where Legolas frantically searched the bodies on the battlement. Kerrinais looked out beyond the hills, the torches carried by the last vestiges of the orc army were now scattering into the woods. But search as he might, Legolas still did not find Lisaine straightaway. He stood before the lifeless corpse of Rakal, a dim, white film now covering the creature's one remaining eye. Legolas stood over the vile creature, until at last his face contorted with rage. Crying out, the elf stretched his bow and let fly another single shaft. It pierced Rakal's untouched eye with such force, it lodged in the stone beneath the beast's distorted head. Spent and slumped over, Legolas made his way to the wall and closed his eyes. Finally, he gazed over the side of the towering wall, already knowing the sight that would befall him. In the growing darkness, he plainly saw the small outline of Lisaine's lifeless body below. Without hesitation, he immediately jumped over the wall; flying through the air as a soaring bird, and landed unharmed only an arm's length from where Lisaine lay. Somewhere above, Kerrinais was speaking an elven prayer for Alnein, for he had found his sister at last in the ruins, and he sought to quicken her spirit to the deathless lands.  
  
But for Legolas, there was no understanding. Only confusion. Nevariel was taken from him as a flame is taken from a candle when it is extinguished, and he did not yet comprehend the meaning of her death or the depth of his own grief. He knelt beside her, his hand touching her cheek. Lisaine almost looked to be sleeping. Mysterious death did not dampen her pale and perfect face. She had cheated death he thought, its grim cloak unable to taint her beauty. To Legolas, she had at last achieved some measure of immortality. Pulling a dagger from his belt, Legolas blinked back his tears as he cut a braid from each temple, leaving a single braid on each side. He held them for a moment in his trembling hand, staring at them. Then he pulled the bloodstained braid from his own belt, and intertwined them all. Legolas gently lifted Lisaine's tiny hand and turned it upwards, kissing her palm. It felt cold and wet, but this did not affect him, for he only wished to touch her once more. He choked back a sob, laid the strands in it and closed her hand around them. At last he bowed his head as he sat next to her, singing softly under the clear night sky.  
  
A horseman rode up to him, spying Lisaine on the ground, he rode out to the hills and called out,  
  
"Alas! The queen is dead! The queen of Irwindal is dead!"  
  
Legolas watched him ride forth, but was numbed to his words. The hours passed and Kerrinais had not yet appeared. Finally emerging from the fortress Kerrinais came, looking worn and somber. Silently he approached Legolas, and sat next to him, saying nothing. Even after Lisaine's body was borne away by the remainder of her army, the two elves remained there on the cold ground, almost until dawn. In the disstant forest, all was quiet but for the almost imperceptible sounds of Legolas's weeping. At the first pale stretches of daybreak streamed across the landscape, the carnage of the night became clear. Orcs and elves and men lay fallen together, a testament to the useless waste of war. The sun's rays began peering between the trees and calm of the woodlands returned to Tamlot as though nothing had transpired. Somewhere in the forest, Neonean heard the subdued whistle of her master, and came galloping to his call. And Legolas and Kerrinais started the long journey back to Rivendell. Their evenings were spent in quiet solitude, each wandering off to be alone. Even as they approached Imladris, the faint elven laments could be heard in reverence for Nevariel, for the tide had once more been turned against Sauron that fateful day. Upon their arrival, the beauty and serenity of Imladris surrounded them once more, and they were hailed as the greatest of elven warriors. The soothing sounds of the Bruinen and the birds enveloped the city as it always had, but there was no longer any joy in Rivendell for either elf. Legolas and Kerrinais lingered in the city less than a day before returning to Mirkwood.  
  
From that time on, the spirits of the elves were thus gentled towards mortal men, because of their aid in the defense of Isodor, and the warrior Queen who was as an elf. And many songs were sung of her, and afterwards, she was called Lossenladwen or Queen of Courage. The kingdoms of the valley, with few men returned, and no ruler to guide them, faltered and ultimately disappeared altogether, as did the city of Isodor, for no elf would live there, as it was now tainted with orc blood. In time, Legolas's heart lightened from his loss, as he came to understand how it was that Nevariel came to Rivendell, and the depth of her devotion to the elves and her own people. Never again did he speak of her, although he heard her name often in song. But 650 years would pass before Legolas would agree to journey again to Rivendell, sent forth once more by King Thranduil to sit at the council of Elrond. For Gollum had escaped from the forests of Mirkwood, and the One Ring had at last been found. 


End file.
